


"Medium Security" III

by Gaedhal



Series: "Medium Security" III [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 44,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: After the violent confrontation with the Low Riders, the Quad tries to get back to "normal."





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

April 1978

 

Amy Carver walked into her classroom on Tuesday evening at 5 minutes to 8:00. It was empty.

She sat at her desk and opened her briefcase. Amy had the section of Brian Kinney’s manuscript that she wanted to return to Justin. But she also had a letter for Justin to give to his cellmate. It was from her friend, Will Foxe, a writer who taught at Carnegie Mellon, discussing the possibility of publication of Brian’s book. In the letter Will, who had been very enthusiastic about the manuscript pages that Amy had showed him, suggested what Brian Kinney might do about lawyers and agents. And Will also suggested that certain sections be forwarded to an editor at ‘The New Yorker.’ If the excerpts were accepted there, they were sure to cause a stir in the publishing world, Amy was certain of it! She had never been so excited about anything in all the time she had been teaching.

Amy waited in her classroom. But no one came.

Finally, at 8:30, Amy began to gather up her material to leave. It was obvious that none of the boys were coming. She couldn’t understand it.

Then there was a movement outside the door. It was Jackie. He was standing in the hallway with a tall, extremely thin man. He had long brown hair and an effeminate manner and was wearing a woman’s baby blue sweater over his prison shirt.

Amy stared at the pair, who seemed reluctant to enter the classroom. Their eyes were red, as if they had been crying.

“Jackie, please come in,” Amy said softly.

“Miss Carver,” Jackie sniffed. The boy was clutching some papers in his left hand. “I brought you my story... but I can’t stay. I’m sorry.” And then he began to cry. The older man put his arm around the boy and patted him. Perhaps this was Jackie’s boyfriend? Amy considered this. But from what Justin had told her about the relationships between inmates, Amy had somehow pictured a much more masculine convict as Jackie’s prison lover.

“Jackie, whatever is the matter? Where are all the other boys?”

“They couldn’t come, ma’am,” the effeminate man said with a pronounced Southern drawl. “It’s a long story. There was an... an incident in the Yard yesterday.”

Amy frowned. “An incident? What kind of incident?”

“Justin!” Jackie cried. Then she added, forlornly, “Brian.” And she burst into copious tears.

Amy’s mouth opened. She heard Justin’s name and held her breath. She had often wondered about the safety of her students in this prison. “What’s happened to Justin? Tell me! Has Justin been hurt?”

The thin man shook his head. “He’s not hurt, but he’s not all right, either, ma’am.” 

“Who are you?” asked Amy. “Are you Jackie’s cellmate?”

“No, ma’am. I’m Emmett Honeycutt,” Em answered. Emmy touched Jackie’s long hair. Jackie had such pretty auburn hair, but she needed to style it better, Em thought. But she’s young. She’ll learn. She’d already learned a lot about things in her young life. Learned too much, maybe. “I’m Jackie’s friend. Come on, babydoll. We best be getting back.” Em took Jackie by the arm.

“Wait a moment, Mr. Honeycutt,” said Amy. “Please?”

“We have to go back now,” Em said, her lips tight.

But Amy persisted. “Won’t you tell me what’s going on? I want to know if Justin is in some kind of trouble. If he is, then maybe I can help him!”

“I don’t think so,” Emmy whispered. “He can’t even help himself right now.” 

“Perhaps if I could talk to his cellmate, Brian?” Amy went on. “I actually have some news for him. About his manuscript. I wrote to Justin, giving him as many of the details as I could, but now I have a letter from my friend, Will Foxe, for Brian. Will is a writer with a lot of connections in the publishing world. It’s extremely important that Brian get this information!”

Jackie’s bottom lip began to quiver again. And then he wept even harder than before.

Emmy’s face was stern. “You’ll need to speak to the authorities, ma’am. We can’t help you. Maybe no one in here can help you.”

“But what about class for next week?” said Amy, following the pair into the hallway. At the end of the hall two more men were waiting for Jackie and Em – a short, dark-haired man and another with long, frizzy blond hair. Their faces also were solemn and their eyes red.

But the tall, effeminate man shook his head. “Ask the warden, ma’am, if you really want to know. If you can stand to know. Good evening to you now.”

“Wait!” called Amy. But the inmates disappeared down the stairwell, on their way back to the Quad, where Amy Carver could not follow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesley has a nightmare.

Chapter 2

 

Wesley was having another nightmare. 

He was trying to run in two different directions at once.

Trying to save two people at the same time, but he couldn’t save either one of them.

He thought that his lungs would burst, his heart would break, he was running that hard. 

He tried. He really, really tried. But nothing he ever did was right.

There was blood everywhere. Wesley had never seen so much blood. Never heard so much yelling. The C.O.’s had their guns drawn. Jackie and Michelle were crying. Emmy was barking orders at everyone. The Juice Pig was kneeling on the ground. And Al’s face was white and strained. Wesley had never seen his old man at a loss for what to do, or for what to say.

And finally, Justin was standing there, alone, as the ambulance pulled away. His pants and shirt were drenched with red. His hands and his hair, too. That’s when the C.O.’s took Justin by the arms and dragged him away. He never made a sound then. Never said a word.

You weren’t fast enough, Wesley, You weren’t strong enough, Wesley. You’re a coward. You didn’t do anything but run. Fucking coward!

There was blood on Wesley’s shoes, where he had stepped in the grass. And blood on his fingers where he tried to wipe it off. Blood all over.

You’ll never get out of here. This is what you are. A punk. Nothing. You can’t do anything. Worthless kid.

Run. Run!

Wesley sat up in the upper bunk, crying. Gasping for breath.

“Be quiet up there!” snapped Al from the lower bunk. He was in a horrible mood. Everyone on the tier was in a horrible mood. Everyone in the whole East Wing.

Wesley and Al had gone down to dinner, but no one could eat anything. The men talked in whispered tones about what was going to happen next. About who was to blame.

When they talked about blame, Wesley felt sick to his stomach, thinking they were all staring at him. Worthless little punk!

The low-riders’ table was empty. No one sat there, as if it were cursed. Hoss was in The Hole and Cisco was locked in the secure unit of the Hospital Wing. Wesley couldn’t get Cisco’s animal-like howls out of his head. Cisco had rolled on the ground, the shank sticking out of him, screaming about his dick, until the orderlies from the Hospital had strapped him to a stretcher and carried him away. The remaining low-riders were in lockdown. Word was that they all were going to be transferred out of Stanton, but it was too soon to know the truth about that.

After chow Wesley and Al trudged back up to the tier. The Rec Room was deserted and the TV Room closed. All the men went back to their cells and sat in them, brooding. No one went to the Gym or even out onto the Yard unless they needed a smoke real bad. The entire prison was holding its breath.

When Wesley passed Justin’s cell it was dark in there. He didn’t see a movement or hear so much as a sigh. Justin was in lockdown, too, just like the low-riders. Another tray of untouched food sat by the door, just inside of the cell. Every tray of food that was placed inside Justin’s door was untouched.

None of the boys went to class on Tuesday night. Emmy, along with Michelle and Barbie, had walked Jackie over to Miss Carver’s to give her Jackie’s story, but none of them could tell the woman what had happened. Nobody wanted to discuss what had happened, but nobody could think about anything else.

Stanton Correctional wasn’t used to violence. Unlike the State Pen or some of the hard-core joints, Stanton was noted for its relative calm. Warden Horvath had made certain of that during his tenure. That’s why Al told Wesley that the low-riders were on their way out for sure. They were troublemakers and Horvath hated trouble. The warden should have kicked their asses out of Stanton ages ago! Now Hoss had lost his chance for easy time in medium security and Cisco was facing even more serious charges. Neither would be missed in the Quad.

But Justin.... Wesley didn’t know what would happen to Justin. No one had seen him since he’d been taken back to his cell and locked down. Al and the Juice Pig and Emmy and even some of the Latino guys who had been playing softball on the diamond swore to the C.O.’s that the kid was acting in self-defense when he stuck Cisco with the biker’s own shank, but sometimes that excuse didn’t wash with the cops. They might take Justin away, maybe even to a max joint, where the guys were in for violent crimes and home-made weapons were a fact of life. It was dog eat dog in maximum security. That would be horrible. So Wesley was afraid for his pal. Very, very afraid.

Maybe that’s why Wesley was having those nightmares. All that fear. He used to have them a lot when he first got put in the joint. He’d been in juvenile detention a couple of times, the first time with his older brother when he was 16 and Dennis was 18. But then Denny went into the Coast Guard and Wesley started hanging out with his cousin. That’s where he learned to boost cars, from his cousin Buddy. But they got caught and Buddy had a stolen gun and some warrants out for him. So Buddy went to the maximum joint outside of Philly and Wesley ended up in Stanton.

He’d been lucky to hook up right away with a strong jocker like Al, especially when he thought about what had happened to Justin with the low-riders. Wesley had been raped a couple of times in juvie and once in the county lock-up right after he and his cousin were picked up, but it had only been one guy each of those times, and not a gang. After the first time he was fucked, Wesley came to expect it. He knew that he had ‘punk’ written all over him, so he gritted his teeth and took it. Even Stormy and the other punks did it to him.

But never Justin. Justin was his friend, the first one Wesley had ever had. They were real pals. Justin always looked out for him. But when Justin needed him, when Justin depended on him, Wesley had failed.

He closed his eyes, but he was afraid to go to sleep. Afraid to dream of all that blood streaming into the grass. Afraid that Brian’s still body and Justin’s frenzied sobs would haunt his sleep. Maybe forever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin in deep trouble.

Chapter 3

 

Sergeant Tully unlocked the door of the cell and let Emmy go in.

“See what you can do with him, Honeycutt,” said Tully. 

Of all the C.O.’s in the East Wing, Sergeant Tully was the easiest to get along with. He was an older man and not a hard guy and he tried to treat the inmates on his watch like human beings and not like animals. Right now he was concerned about the kid. He hadn’t eaten or even moved inside his cell in the three days he’d been in lockdown. But now Warden Horvath wanted to talk to Justin. The kid needed to get himself together, clean himself up, and be ready to answer the warden’s questions. And he needed to do it soon, before the C.O.’s did it for him.

“Justin, honey?” said Em, tentatively. The cell was dark, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “It’s Em.”

Nothing. Emmy could see the form huddled on the bottom bunk, motionless. For one awful moment Em was afraid that Justin was dead, he was so still, but then he heard a soft sniffling.

“Justin, it’s time to get up now! The warden wants to see you, hon. Up, up up!”

Emmy turned on the light over the sink. He could see Justin lying on the bunk, his arm over his face. And he could see that the blood on the boy’s workpants and shirt had dried to a dark, ugly brown. The smell of blood and sweat and anguish hung over the cell like a pall.

Emmy approached the bunk and touched Justin’s arm gently. His skin was clammy.

Justin jerked his arm away and buried his face deeper into the pillow.

“Justin,” said Em, more firmly. “You have to get up. You get undressed and I’ll help you wash up.” Emmy pulled a clean pair of pants, a tee shirt, and underwear from the shelf and laid them on the top bunk. “Here are your clothes, honey. Now if you’ll just get up?”

Emmy stood back, giving the boy a little space. 

But Justin didn’t move. His leg twitched slightly and Em heard that sniffling sound again. But nothing more.

Em knelt down next to the bunk. “Justin, listen to me. If you don’t get up yourself, then the C.O.’s are going to come in here and clear you out. Sergeant Tully asked me to help you get dressed. Come on, babydoll – the sergeant is a nice guy. He’s giving you one more chance. Don’t blow it, Justin. I’m here to help you.”

Em reached out to stroke Justin’s hair comfortingly, but the boy lashed out at her. His hair was wild and his face looked feral in the dim light. Emmy pulled back, afraid that Justin was going to hit her.

“I’m trying to help you, you little idiot!” Em whispered fiercely. She paused. “Is this the way Brian would want you to behave? Like a petulant little child? Is it?”

“Fuck off,” the boy said, his voice low and hoarse.

“Let me get you some water,” said Em. “You have to be thirsty.”

“Fuck OFF!” Justin said, louder and more violently. And he kicked out in Em’s direction.

Emmy stood up and back to the door of the cell. “I’m sorry, honey,” Em said sadly. “I’m sorry that things are fucked up. But there’s nothing anyone can do about that. Except go on. Are you hearing me, Justin? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Nothing.

Em knocked on the door of the cell and Sergeant Tully opened it. “Any luck?” he asked.

“None.” Em walked out and the C.O. locked the door again. “What will happen now?”

“The warden wants the kid in his office,” said Tully. “And that means that the kid will be in his office.”

At 4:00 the men returned to their cells on the third tier for afternoon head count and lockdown. The C.O’s hurried them into their cells. Then Lieutenant Clayton appeared, shouting at the C.O.’s and telling the men to step back away from their doors. Something was going on.

Clayton ordered the door of Justin’s cell racked. “Get up, punk,” the lieutenant snapped, rapping his baton against the bars. “Get up and get dressed. The warden is waiting for you.”

But Justin didn’t move. He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard the C.O.’s words. 

Lieutenant Clayton had three guards from the South Wing with him. They were more used to dealing with recalcitrant prisoners than the C.O.’s regularly assigned to the East Wing. Clayton nodded and the C.O.’s dragged Justin off the bunk and threw him on the floor of the cell. 

But Justin fought like his life depended on it. He kicked and spit and hit out with his fists in a way that he had tried to do with the low-riders. Tried and failed. Justin was a slight, weakened, and tormented boy, but it took three large guards to haul him to his feet and cuff his hands behind his back.

As they pulled him through the door of the cell, Justin began to shriek. He was crying and yelling incoherently, as if he’d forgotten what language was. All the men on the third tier rushed to see what was going on, pressing their faces against the bars. But they knew where the sound was coming from. They knew who was making it and they knew why.

“I said to step back from your doors!” Lieutenant Clayton ordered. “I mean it! Everyone get back! Now!”

“Justin!” Wesley cried out wretchedly. “Where are you taking him? Justin!” 

“Shut the hell up and get back away from that door, you little bastard!” the lieutenant barked at Wesley, raising his baton threateningly. 

The terrified Wesley burst into tears, but his jocker, Al, began rattling their cell door as hard as he could. Then Junior and Stormy across the way began rattling their door. Then Beemer and Andy. And then all the men, all the way down the third tier, began rattling their doors and stamping their feet and banging anything that would make a noise against the bars in protest. 

The men on the second tier heard the racket above them and they joined in the protest. And then so did the first tier, until the whole East Wing was in an uproar as the C.O.’s dragged Bri Baby’s kid, his clothes dark and crusted with dried blood, still shrieking like a banshee and fighting like a desperate animal, along the tier, down the stairwell, and out of the Quad.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful place...

Chapter 4

 

All he wanted to do was to go to that beautiful place.

He could see it in the distance. It looked exactly the way he’d described it. Green and sweet-smelling. A valley that was untouched by time, ringed by sheltering hills. 

And the sky – he’d seen that blue before. He’d looked deep into that blue. And that blue had looked back at him, trustingly. Lovingly. Unconditionally.

That’s what made it such a foreign country. He was used to a lot of things. Lust. Obsession. Betrayal. Cruelty. Pragmatism. But not love. That was a place he had thought he’d visited before, only to realize that it was a different place altogether.

And the golden horse. He could see it, running, its white tail and mane flowing behind it like clean water. Running.

There were no walls and no fences. No towers and no guards. Nothing to stop you. Nothing but those protective hills, and even they weren’t there to keep you in, but to keep evil out.

Sometimes he heard voices. But they didn’t speak words. Or at least, they didn’t speak words he could understand. They talked over him. Around him. Never TO him. Because he wasn’t really there.

No, he was in that beautiful place. That’s where he would stay. Stay forever.

It was easy. You just let yourself go. He had tried to go there before, but someone had stopped him. Someone evil. Someone who only wanted him to go on in captivity, like a bird chained to a stake. Or like that golden horse, tied and hobbled in a dirty yard, his head down, his sides heaving.

They wouldn’t do that to him again. Never again. He was free.

Some parts of him were cold and others hot. Burning hot. There was a hot pain in his side, in his gut. He was floating over that pain, but he could still feel the burning. The sensation of falling. Of water being drained from a clear glass. Of blood being drained from a worthless entity.

Go away. Don’t stop me. I’m almost free.

But then he heard the crying.

It was far away from here. It wasn’t in this room or even in this building. It was in his head. It was in his heart.

He could hear it.

Hear it like it was right next to him.

It started as a moan and then built to something not human. Something primal. Pure animal anguish.

The sound of a creature that had lost all possible hope.

Wailing. Wailing in the darkness. 

Alone.

Forever alone. 

And forever shut out of that beautiful place.

He tried to reach out his hand and find that pain. But he was too weak. He was too far away. He could hear it, but it was denied to him. The beautiful hills were blocking it out. And he was getting further and further distant from that other world. Backing away from it.

He couldn’t reach out anymore. It was too hard.

Then he heard the sound again. Louder and more desperate. Fighting. It was being hurt again. Tormented again. 

Don’t give up! Fight back! Fight on!

The beautiful place was covered in a fog. It was veiled until he couldn’t see the golden horse or the blue hills. And the sky was graying with a cold spring rain.

He turned back.

Towards the sound. He could stop that crying. That was something he could do. Something that he had to do.

He could stop that pain.

The beautiful place could wait. It would still be there. It would always be there. When he was ready.

When they were both ready.

He tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy.

He tried to call out, but he couldn’t make a sound.

He reached out with his heart, with his soul. Cast it out as far as he was able, until he touched that pain. Until he touched the shoulder of that grief and squeezed it gently.

I’m here. 

Don’t worry.

I’m still here.

And I’m coming back.

Wait for me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin at the warden's office.

Chapter 5

 

Warden Carl Horvath’s assistant, Raymond Milton, stuck his head in the door of the office. “Lieutenant Clayton is here with Taylor, sir.”

“Thanks, Ray,” said Horvath, looking over some reports on the stabbing incident that had taken place three days before. “Send them in.”

“Eh, Warden?” 

Horvath looked up. “What, Ray?”

“Did you tell Clayton to bring that kid up here bodily?”

Horvath frowned. “Bodily? What are you talking about?”

Ray Milton made a grim face. “You’ll see.”

A minute later the door opened the Lieutenant Clayton and three of his C.O.’s carried a gagged and handcuffed Justin Taylor into the warden’s office and dumped him on the floor in front of Horvath’s desk.

Carl Horvath stood up behind his desk and stared at the boy. He was kicking out at the guards and straining against the gag like a wild animal. But even more shocking to Horvath was that the boy was still wearing the blood-stained clothing he’d been wearing that day on the Yard when his cellmate had been stabbed.

“Clayton! Take that gag out of this prisoner’s mouth and remove his handcuffs, if you don’t mind?” Horvath ordered.

“But, Warden....” the lieutenant began.

“Do it!” Horvath thundered. “Now!”

The C.O.’s removed Justin’s restraints and left the boy lying on the bare floor, gasping for breath.

“He was struggling, Warden,” Clayton explained. “He wouldn’t change his clothes or cooperate with the staff when we told him that he was seeing you. He’s been completely defiant the entire time he’s been in lockdown.”

Horvath’s face was red with anger. “And his acts of defiance consisted of refusing to change his clothes?”

“He also rejected food, sir, and declined to respond to direct orders. He was on his bunk and wouldn’t move.”

Horvath nodded. “So his defiant stance consisted of lying in his bed and not moving. Why wasn’t this reported to me – or to Dr. Caputo in the Hospital?”

Lieutenant Clayton dug in his heels. “Because he’s not sick, Warden. He’s just obstinate. He was under lockdown for committing a violent assault on another inmate and he was treated as such.”

Horvath rubbed his aching forehead. “You and your men are dismissed, Lieutenant. Thank you.”

“But, Warden....”

“Ray, will you escort the officers out of my office?” Horvath paused. “And will you call Dr. Caputo and tell him to come up here immediately?”

Horvath’s assistant ushered the C.O.’s out, while Horvath stared at the boy, who was lying still at his feet.

“Taylor?” said Horvath, gently. “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

The boy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He was shaking. “Those are two different things, Warden. Two very different things.”

Horvath pulled up a chair. “Sit here, Taylor. Please?”

Justin sat up slowly and climbed to his feet unsteadily. He eased himself onto the chair and clung to the sides, trying not to fall. He felt dizzy and disoriented. The taste of the gag that the guards had put into his mouth lingered, just like the taste of the bandanna that the low-riders had shoved between his teeth out in the Yard. The warden offered him a cup of water and Justin sipped it slowly.

“I’m sorry, son,” Warden Horvath said. “When I put you under lockdown it wasn’t meant to be a punishment. Except for the two who are under secure guard, I ordered all of the men directly involved in this incident into lockdown so that you all might have some time to decompress. I wasn’t aware that you... you were in trouble, Taylor.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Justin replied flatly. “I’m not anything.”

“Then why haven’t you changed your clothes? Or eaten? Or responded to the C.O.’s?”

“Why should I?” whispered Justin harshly. He touched the dried blood on his workpants. “Why the fuck should I do anything THEY tell me to do? Or anything YOU tell me to do? It’s fucked. Totally fucked!”

“I understand your anger, son.”

“Do you, Warden?” Justin hissed. “The fuck you do! You don’t understand anything! You have no idea what happened out there! What they... they did to me! What they did to... to....” Justin stopped and hung his head.

“Were those the men who assaulted you when you first came in here, son?” asked Horvath. “Hoss’ bikers?”

“What do you think? Why do you think Brian was trying... trying to save me from them? So they wouldn’t do it again! He said he’d kill anyone who tried to hurt me. But... but Brian was too late.” Justin’s words caught in his throat.

“Did the bikers assault you again on the Yard, son?”

Justin clutched the water cup. “Hoss and Cisco did. The others... there wasn’t time. Because Brian came. And then Em and Wes. And Ben and Al and Junior and the rest of the jockers from our tier.” Justin looked up at the warden. “Brian was coming to help me! Brian didn’t start it! I was a stupid jerk and let the bikers get me! And Brian was... was saving me. Trying to... rescue me.”

Horvath picked up the papers on his desk. “I know that, Taylor. I have statements from a number of inmates, including Benjamin Bruckner, Emmett Honeycutt, Wesley Richmond, Albert Fink, Henry Caton, Jr., and Juan de Sousa, who was playing softball on the diamond at the time. I also have statements from the C.O.’s who responded to the disturbance, as well as Dr. Gomez, who was on duty that day and tended to the victim... to your cellmate. But none of them mentioned a sexual assault.”

“They didn’t see it,” Justin said, his voice emotionless. “But it happened. Ask the bikers. IF they tell you the truth.”

“The members of Hoss’ gang have been interviewed once and they will be again, Mr. Taylor,” Horvath assured him, tapping the report. “But one thing everyone agrees on – the shank belonged to John Hunt, a.k.a., Cisco, and that he and Matthew Grice, a.k.a., Hoss, were the primary aggressors. That Mr. Kinney was acting in defense of you – and that you attacked Mr. Hunt in self-defense. If it’s true that Hunt and Grice also just assaulted you sexually, that adds to the self-defense aspect of this act.” Horvath sighed. This really was a mess in every way. 

“What the fuck does it matter in the long run?” Justin said bitterly. 

Horvath scratched his head. “Dr. Caputo is coming up here and I want you to go back to the Hospital Wing with him and let him examine you. You need to do this, son. For yourself and also for your family.”

“My family doesn’t give a shit about what happens to me!” Justin asserted.

“That isn’t true, Mr. Taylor,” Horvath countered. “Your mother has been informed about this incident and I’ve told her that you can have a private visit with her. Which is another reason for you to get yourself cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to see my mother! And I don’t want to clean myself up!” Justin replied. “I don’t give a damn if I never leave my cell for the rest of my term! Or ever change my fucking clothes! Or see anyone else... again....” Justin tried to control his voice, but he was failing. 

Horvath sat on the edge of his desk and leaned over. “Listen, son....”

“Don’t call me son!” Justin cried. “I’m NOT your fucking son! And I don’t want to listen to you, or the C.O.’s, or my mother, or... or....” 

But then Justin stopped. He stared into space, his eyes unblinking, as if he were hearing something faint and far away.

“Son?” said the warden. “Mr. Taylor? What’s wrong?”

Finally Justin blinked and glared at Horvath, his mouth gaping. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why the FUCK didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, son?” Horvath moved back. The boy looked more than a little crazy.

“That Brian is alive!” Justin breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Horvath swallowed. This is something that Horvath had hoped to avoid. “Taylor, your cellmate is in very serious condition. He lost a substantial amount of blood. Frankly, the doctors at County General don’t expect him to survive.”

Justin shook his head. “That’s not true. Brian IS coming back. You’ll see! I don’t care what those doctors say. Or what anyone says. Brian told me! And I believe him!”

The warden coughed. Yes, the kid was a little crazy. The trauma of the sexual assaults and seeing his cellmate and lover murdered – well, almost murdered – in front of him was apparently taking its toll on his mind.

There was a knock on the door of the office. “Warden, Dr. Caputo is here.”

“Thanks, Ray.” 

Justin stood up slowly and painfully. “I’ll go with the doctor now, Warden. I need to get checked out by the doc and then clean myself up. To get ready for Brian. He wouldn’t like to see me – or smell me – in these filthy clothes.”

Horvath looked at the kid. Justin was smiling to himself, a strange, almost blissful smile. Horvath felt a chill go down his spine. How could he convince this boy that his cellmate wasn’t really speaking to him? That it was the kid’s own wishful thinking – or a large screw loose in his messed-up head? That Brian Kinney was unlikely ever to return to Stanton – or even to leave County General Hospital, except in a pine box?

“You do that, kid,” said Carl Horvath, half to himself. “And tell your cellmate hello for me – the next time you ‘talk’ to him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmett tries to help Justin.

Chapter 6

April 1978 

 

“Look, babydoll,” said Emmy. “I brought some clothes.”

Justin was sitting on the table in the examining room, waiting for Dr. Caputo to check him over. He still hadn’t taken off his stained pants and shirt, but his shoes and socks were off and he was swinging his bare feet back and forth rhythmically and staring into space.

“Honey?” Emmy prompted. “Let’s start with the shirt, okay?”

Emmy slowly unbuttoned Justin’s shirt. It was partially stuck to his undershirt with blood. Em tugged at it gently and slipped it off the boy’s shoulders, then she pulled the undershirt over his head. Justin let Emmy do it, very passively. His blue eyes watched Em, as if she were undressing someone else, somewhere else.

“Now the pants, hon,” Emmy said in a business-like tone. Justin lifted his butt and Em eased the workpants and shorts down. The dried blood on the pants was more profuse than on Justin’s shirt, and they were stuck even more stubbornly to his pale skin. Justin flinched as the material tore away from his raw, tender flesh.

“Sorry, Sunshine,” Emmy muttered. As an orderly in the Hospital Wing of a prison, Em had seen a lot of troubling, ugly things, but this bothered her in a way those things had not. This was more personal. Justin was her friend. And Brian – Em couldn’t get it out of her mind that this was Brian’s blood all over everything. 

Emmy thought of her own blouse, with which she’d tried to staunch the bleeding after the stabbing on the Quad. How she’d stood there after the ambulance roared away, the sticky, red-drenched material balled in her hands. One of the C.O.’s had taken it away as ‘evidence.’

“I’ll just put these in the discard bag, honey,” Em continued, folding the ruined clothes.

But Justin snapped to life. “No! Those are mine!” He reached out and grabbed at the shirt in Emmy’s hand. “Mine!” he repeated.

“But Sunshine, there’s no way to wash out these... these stains. I’ve brought you a full set of new ones. See?” Emmy showed Justin the pile of clean government issue pants, shirt, and underwear in Justin’s size, as well as a fresh pair of socks and his extra pair of sneakers.

“Those are MY things – and I want them,” Justin replied in a dark voice. “Give them back! Now!”

Emmy felt a little fearful for a moment. “Okay, honey. I’ll just slip them into a bag and you can take them with you, all right?” 

Justin nodded and Emmy searched through the cupboard until she found a plastic bag. The staff saved used plastic shopping bags because there were never enough bags to carry supplies and other odds and ends. Em stuffed the blood-encrusted clothes into a Kaufmann’s bag and folded down the top. “There you go. You can take that with you.” 

Emmy handed Justin a thin cloth hospital gown and helped him put it around his shoulders so he wouldn’t get too cold. Then Em ran the water in the sink and began washing him, slowly and carefully, the way you might wash a touchy, unpredictable child.

“Is that warm enough, sweetheart? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Emmy kept up a soothing monologue as she washed the boy. Justin’s skin was pink and poreless, like a baby’s. “That’s a good boy! Lift your arm just like that!”

“Em, I want to get another cake,” Justin said suddenly.

“Another... cake?” Em frowned. “Sure, hon. We’ll get you a piece of cake.”

“No, Em. I mean a whole cake,” Justin insisted. “All decorated. Like I got for the birthday party. For when Brian comes back. I think he’d like another cake to celebrate his return.”

Em held her breath. When Brian comes back. Emmy swallowed. He knew that Justin was upset and that the three days he’d spent lying on his bunk in the dark couldn’t have been good for his mental state, but now Emmy was truly apprehensive for the boy.

“When... when Brian comes back?” Em repeated. She stopped washing the boy and held the wash cloth tightly. Justin must know that his lover was dead. But he obviously couldn’t accept that simple fact. “Honey, I don’t know if... if Brian will be coming back... I mean, anytime real soon.”

“Oh, yes,” Justin said firmly. “He’s coming back to the Quad. I know that for certain.”

Em blinked. “You do? How do you know that, babydoll?”

“Because Brian told me so himself. When I was up in the warden’s office,” Justin replied calmly.

Emmy leaned back and took a few breaths to steady herself. “Was... was Brian up in the warden’s office, honey? I hadn’t heard that he was up there today.”

Justin smiled. “Of course not, Em! Brian wasn’t in the warden’s office. What would he be doing there?”

“I... I don’t know, Sunshine. But if you said that he talked to you there....”

“That’s not where he is, Em. Not in a room or an office,” Justin explained. Then he touched his finger to a spot just above his right temple. “He’s in here. That’s where he talks to me. That’s where he told me that he’s coming back. So I have to get ready for him. I have to be prepared for when he gets here. Brian wouldn’t want me to be all dirty, would he, Em?”

Em’s closed her gaping mouth. “No, of course not, Justin. He’d likes you all clean and sweet-smelling.” 

“That’s true,” the boy agreed.

Emmy wrung the wash cloth out in the sink and helped Justin put on the hospital gown, tying it in the back. 

“When... when does Brian... tell you these things, hon?” Emmy looked closely into Justin’s eyes. It was like looking into a bottomless pool.

“Up in the warden’s office was the first time,” Justin answered. “He heard me calling for him when the C.O.’s dragged me out of our cell. But he told me it was okay. That I would be all right.” Justin smiled again. “And now he talks to me all the time. That’s how I know he’s coming back soon.”

“How... nice,” Em said. She tried to keep her face impassive, but Justin was frightening her badly.

“And do you know what else?” Justin leaned over to Emmy and touched her arm. “We’re going away from here. Together. Brian promised. Going to a place where there aren’t any walls or bars. A beautiful place. When I get back to our cell I’m going to draw a picture of it and hang it next to my bunk so I can look at it every day while I’m waiting for Brian.”

“Wonderful,” said Em.

“Yes, every day,” Justin repeated. “Until Brian comes to take me away.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emmett talks to Father Bob.

Chapter 7

 

“Father Bob?”

The priest looked up to see one of the inmates, Emmett Honeycutt, standing in the doorway of his tiny office behind the Chapel. Emmett, along with his friends Michael and Lou, were regulars at Mass every Sunday morning and Emmett often came to the office to talk things over with the priest.

“Emmett, please come in and have a seat,” said Father Bob.

Emmett enjoyed talking to Father Bob. When he was young Emmett had thought about becoming a priest himself. He loved the rituals and the beauty of the Catholic Church and the fabulous and colorful robes that the priests wore. And most of all, Emmett loved and lusted after the handsome young rector of their parish church, St. Theresa’s, if only from afar. 

Unfortunately, thought Emmett, Father Bob was a long way from being an object of desire. He was in his 50’s, balding, and more than a little overweight. But Father Bob was also an excellent listener. And for inmates who had no family, or were troubled, or simply needed a shoulder to cry on, the priest was, literally, a godsend.

“Now, Emmett, what can I do for you?”

“It isn’t what you can do for me, Father,” Emmett began. “But what you might be able to do for a friend of mine who needs some help right now.”

Father Bob nodded. “Is it one of your friends who comes to Mass with you?” Father Bob pretended not to be aware that Emmett’s group of friends were the prison drag queens, but he knew. The boys always dressed down when they came to his services, but it was hard not to know the truth when a large portion of your congregation were wearing eye make-up.

“No, Father. Justin isn’t even a Catholic.” Emmett paused, pondering. “At least I’m pretty sure he’s not. But he’s in big trouble anyway. When he first got in here Justin was... well, he was assaulted by the low-riders. And then they attacked him again on the Quad.”

Yes, thought the priest, this would be a child in great trouble. “Is this the boy whose cellmate was stabbed on Monday?” 

Emmett looked pained. “Yes, Father. So you can see that he’s not doing very well. Justin was in lockdown for a couple of days, but he spent the whole time lying on his bunk, not moving. He wouldn’t even change his clothes, Father! They were all covered in... in blood.”

Father Bob frowned. “Wasn’t anything being done for this boy?”

“Eventually the C.O.’s took him up to see the warden, Father. But they were really rough with him!” Emmett said indignantly. “There was no call for that kind of roughness with a young boy! Justin wasn’t guilty of anything, Father. He was only acting in self-defense! He was finally sent over to the Hospital and Doc Caputo examined him, but it’s not Justin’s physical health that worries me.” 

Emmett paused. He wasn’t certain how much to tell the priest about Justin’s ‘conversations’ with Brian.

“Is he having nightmares? Is the boy depressed, Emmett?” asked the priest, softly.

“Yes, all of those things,” Em continued. “But... but he told me that his cellmate, Brian, you know, the man who was... was stabbed? That Brian was talking to him. Telling him things.”

“Perhaps the boy was only dreaming?” Father Bob suggested.

“No, Father. Justin was very specific about when Brian was speaking to him. And he was awake! In the warden’s office. In his cell. Even when he was waiting to be examined by the doctor. And since then he’s said it to me again. Said it to other people, too.” Emmett clenched his hands nervously. “He’s scaring me, Father Bob! He said that Brian was coming to take him away to a beautiful place. That’s what Justin said – ‘a beautiful place’! It... it sounded like Heaven to me. No walls or bars. Where you were finally free.”

“That sounds like a typical fantasy for any prisoner, Emmett,” said the priest. “To be free. To be in a place far from here, with no bars. The child has obviously suffered a severe trauma. Has he seen the staff psychologist?”

“Not yet,” Em admitted. “But I’m afraid that if the shrink hears him going on about... about Brian talking to him in his head and taking him away that they’ll put Justin in the Psych Ward! He’s not crazy, Father! Not really. He’s only... upset right now,” Emmett appealed to the priest. “If you could talk to him maybe you could make him see that it’s only his imagination. That Brian isn’t actually inside his head. And that Brian isn’t coming to rescue him and take him to some beautiful place!”

Father Bob understood Emmett’s concern. His young friend had gone through a horrible trauma and he seemed to be dealing with it by retreating into a dream world – a beautiful place – where his cellmate and, the priest assumed, his lover was still alive and waiting for him. But wasn’t that exactly what Father Bob preached every week during Mass? That the men might be in prison now, but that a beautiful place was awaiting them all if they only had faith?

“What would you have me do, Emmett?” asked Father Bob. “Do you want me to shake this boy out of his fantasy world? Convince him that his... his friend is NOT alive? Convince him that this man is not coming back to get him? Do you think that will bring him comfort, Emmett?”

“I don’t know, Father!” Emmett’s heart was aching. “But I don’t want to see poor Justin going slowly crazy while we stand around and watch him! I don’t want it to end with Justin being dragged out not by the C.O.’s, but by the men in the white coats from the Psych Ward! Or....” Em faltered. “Or to find him dead in his cell one day. Find that he’s decided to hurry up joining Brian in that ‘beautiful place.’ He wouldn’t be the first boy who took that way out, Father.”

“I know,” the priest sighed. “But if you take away his fantasy, take away his only hope, then you may be stripping him of his only way of coping with this terrible shock. Perhaps over time, as he comes to accept reality, then this voice in his head will fade away. Your friend will learn to go on with his life and face the world once more.”

“And if he doesn’t, Father? Then what?” Emmett demanded.

“Then the Psych Ward might be the best place for him. That’s something only the doctors can decide.” Father Bob sat back and rubbed his eyes. “If this boy would come in a talk with me it might ease his mind. Or I could arrange for the Protestant chaplain to counsel him?”

Em shook his head. He stood up. “Thanks, Father Bob.” Em reached out to shake the priest’s hand. “But I don’t think he’ll want to speak with you or with the reverend. Justin seems quite happy ‘talking’ to Brian. It’s everyone around him who are upset by it.”

“Then I suggest that you allow the boy to be happy.” Father Bob escorted Emmett to the door of the little office. “While it lasts. Because it won’t last, Emmett. You know that it won’t last. The boy will wake up one day and realize the truth. That his... his friend is never coming back.”

“I know,” Em replied sadly. “That’s what I’m really afraid of.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up.

Chapter 8

 

Sometimes it felt like nothing.

And nothing was good compared to the moments of pain.

Usually the pain came when someone was moving him. Turning him. Pushing him into place as if he wasn’t a person at all, but a sack of organs, none of which were working very well. 

He wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t quite surface. Couldn’t quite breach that final push into consciousness. 

And even if he were able to open his eyes, even if he were able to form a word or make a sound, the tubes were blocking him. Tubes in his throat and in his arms and up his cock. Tubes draining and siphoning and dripping and pumping.

At one point he felt himself waking up.

Things looked so fuzzy. His eyes couldn’t focus. The lights seemed too bright. The voices seemed too loud. It had been so quiet before. So beautiful. So peaceful. Why did he want to come back to this confusion? This pain? Why?

And then he remembered.

He had to.

He reached out with his mind again.

Someone touched him back. They touched each other, very gently. 

That was what kept him going while he was trapped in the darkness.

But then he felt the pain begin again.

It started as a throbbing in his left side. 

Before it had been hot there, then cold, then numb. That was where all the trouble was. That was where the shank had gone in, ripping jaggedly as it was forced into his tender flesh.

And all the blood that had rushed out from that spot, all the life that had drained from there, was very slow to return.

In the hospital they had filled him with new blood, but so much had been lost that in the ambulance Dr. Gomez and the paramedics had almost given up. Almost. But, luckily, they didn’t give up. Luckily for him.

But now he felt this new ache. An infection that crept in and refused to let go.

He felt the heat move through his body. He was already weak and now he was weaker.

He could feel himself slipping backwards.

He could feel himself losing that tenuous connection. 

He tried to reach out – and he couldn’t quite make it.

He began to panic. His heart was racing. He was fighting just to stay where he was. Just remaining in place was a battle that he was losing, inch by inch.

Then he felt it. Reaching out for him. To him.

“Don’t give up. I’m still waiting, just like I said that I would. Waiting for you.”

He felt himself somewhere above his body. It would have been so easy to keep going. To leave, right now. That beautiful place was also waiting. It wasn’t very far at all.

“Don’t give up! Not now, when you’ve come this far.”

But it was like trying to get through a thick fog. Trying to find your way back without a clue as to the direction.

“I’m trying. But... I can’t.”

“Don’t give up. I’m right here. I’m right next to you.”

The ache began to subside. The heat faded.

He could see the ceiling. See the lights overhead. It was still too bright, but it meant that he was back. He was here. And he was going to stay.

And he was breathing softly, all on his own.

He tried to speak, but he still couldn’t form the word correctly.

He could only say it clearly in his head.

“Justin.”

He repeated it.

“What? What did you say?”

“Justin.”

“What do you want? Tell me. I’m right here.”

He felt something touching his hand. His hand was cold, but the touch felt warm. He tried to squeeze back. 

“That’s good. Do it again. You can do it!”

He tried again. He tried to make one of his fingers move. “Resist.” It moved, ever so slightly.

“Justin.”

“What did you say? Try to say it again.”

“Justin.”

“Do you want water? I can’t understand you.”

“Justin.”

He was so tired. He just couldn’t try anymore today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to say anything.”

No, he didn’t need to say anything. The hand squeezed his. It felt nice and warm. 

He let himself fall back into sleep. He knew that he would wake up again. He knew that everything would all right now.

“Don’t worry. I’m right here.”

Something touched his face just before he fell asleep.

“I’ll always be right here with you, Baby.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Chow Hall.

Chapter 9

 

Emmy walked into the Chow Hall at lunch time and looked around for Justin. He wasn’t there.

“Hey, Albert, Wesley,” Em greeted the pair. When you were talking to a jock and his punk, you always addressed the man first. As a queen who wasn’t hooked up with a strong protector, Em was careful about such issues of respect.

“Hey,” Al grunted. He tolerated Wesley’s friendship with the queens, as long as he didn’t have to deal with them too much. Queens were loud and bitchy and they were always in your business.

“Do you mind if I borrow your cellmate for a moment? Please? Sir?” asked Em, deferentially.

Al shrugged and Em pulled Wes out of his chair and over to a quiet corner of the Hall.

“Where’s Justin? I stopped by his room and there was no answer when I called in there,” said Em in frustration.

“He’s in there, Em,” said Wesley, his brow furrowed with worry. “I was in there this morning. He didn’t go to breakfast because he wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Em exclaimed. “Not again!” Justin’s ups and downs were driving Em to distraction.

“He really DID seem to be sick, Em,” Wesley replied. “He drank some pop and I gave him some crackers, too. So it’s not like before, when he wouldn’t eat anything or even talk to anyone.”

Emmy sighed. “Well, that’s a good sign – I think.”

“He was supposed to see his mother this morning,” Wes added. “And he didn’t go. Sergeant Tully came to get him and take him to the Administration Building, but Justin said that he couldn’t do it.”

“A boy who doesn’t want to visit with his mother?” said Em. “Not good at all!”

Wes grimaced. “He told me that his stomach hurt. That he had an ache in his left side that wouldn’t go away.”

Em shook his head. “We better go up there and see if he needs to visit the doc again.”

“They... they aren’t going to send Justin to the Psych Ward, are they, Em?” asked Wesley.

“I hope not, babydoll.”

“I have to tell Al that I’m going back up to the tier with you, okay?” said Wes. Since the incident on the Yard, Al was even more possessive of his punk than he’d been before and Wesley had to ask permission to take a shower or even go down to the TV Room.

“Sure, honey. You check in with your daddy.”

While Em was waiting for Wesley, Ben and Michelle came into the Chow Hall. Michelle was hanging onto the Juice Pig very tightly. Brian’s stabbing had affected all of the relationships in the Quad. Queens, and even some of the punks, were trying to hold onto their jockers even more securely than they had before, and the jocks were bristling with possessive tension. Suspicion was high, especially on the Yard and in the Chow Hall where different groups from all tiers and wings were forced to mingle.

Michelle mouthed a greeting at Emmy and then went to stand in the food line for herself and her man. But Ben’s blue eyes scanned the Hall. Em saw him staring at a table on the far side of the big room. 

The old low-riders’ table was once again populated, but by a decimated group. Hoss had already been transferred to a maximum security prison and faced an extension of his original term. And Cisco had also been moved to the Psych Center in Harrisburg. He was definitely facing more time in a max joint as soon as he got out of the hospital. The word on the Quad was that the old biker’s dick would never be quite the same again after Justin had skewered it with Cisco’s own shank.

Ben strode over to the low-riders’ table. Rowdy, Elvis, and Clint were huddled there, trying to look inconspicuous. But Ben leaned over the table and knocked Rowdy’s plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes onto the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” sputtered Rowdy, standing up. Rowdy was tall, but he looked like a physical non-entity next to the pumped up Juice Pig.

“Who gave you scum permission to eat in this Hall?” said Ben, his voice dark and rumbling.

“I... I... this is where we always eat,” mumbled Rowdy. He glanced over at his biker road dogs, Clint and Elvis, but the other two guys stared down at their plates. Since Hoss and Cisco had started the trouble with the kid and then taken out Bri Baby, their lives had been fucked up. 

The two punks who still remained in the low-rider tip, Pinky and Midget, had gathered up their shit and split the first chance they got. With Hoss and Cisco gone, there was no one to stop them anymore. Both of the boys had already hooked up with other non-biker jocks in the South Wing. 

Also, the bikers had begun to be hassled by the black gang in the South Wing, which had rarely happened before. Baraka, the leader of the Bros, had been friendly with Brian and especially with Ron, who had worked to get a number of Baraka’s brothers freed over the years, and now the powerful black leader was taking subtle revenge against the low-riders whenever he could. Nothing real big, but small shoves in the food line, glaring looks in the showers, and open hostility on the Yard and in the Gym. And some of Baraka’s men were very scary ghetto dudes!

And now here was the Juice Pig in their faces. He had been Bri Baby’s best road dog in the Quad and the bikers knew that if Juice started an active campaign against them, then they were truly screwed. All the other big jockers in the East Wing – Al, Junior, Big John, Bart, Big Melvin, and Stan – and even some of the jocks in the South Wing – like Chuck, Rick, and Danny – were tight with the Juice Pig and had been friendly with Brian and Justin. Rowdy couldn’t figure it out. A bunch of jockers getting so fucking upset over some little punk getting ganged and another getting stuck! But Rowdy and the others knew it meant they were in big trouble. That fucking Hoss! And fuck that stupid Cisco! They were gone, but the remaining guys were going to pay the fucking price!

“From now on I don’t want to see any of you motherfuckers together,” said Juice threateningly. “If you want to eat, come in and do it fast. And do it one by one. And if I see you guys together on the Yard, plotting and scheming, I’ll personally break your goddamn wrists!”

Rowdy cringed. A guy with weak wrists had trouble controlling his bike. A Harley was a heavy machine with a big kick. It took a strong grip to hold it to the road. If the Juice Pig fucked up his wrists, then Rowdy might be reduced to riding a fucking rice-burner and no decent club would let someone on a Jap cycle ride with them!

“We didn’t do nothing, Juice!” Rowdy whined. “It was Hoss and Cisco!”

“No,” said Ben, glowering. “You’re all so fucking innocent.” He stepped back while Rowdy picked up his plate off the floor. Clint and Elvis looked the other way, but every other man in the Chow Hall was watching the scene avidly. “Watch your backs, all you guys. Because every one of you creeps has a target on you. Don't forget that, every hour of the day and every hour of the night, for as long as you’re all in this joint.”

Then Ben turned and walked back over to the table where Michelle was sitting, holding her breath. He sat down and began eating his plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Wesley walked back over to Emmy, who was still waiting by the Chow Hall door.

“What does it mean, Em?” Wes asked.

“It means that Brian is not going to be forgotten, honey,” Em explained as the two left the Hall and headed back up to Justin’s cell. “And it also means that there’s a new leader in the East Wing and maybe in the whole Quad. The Juice Pig has just announced that he’s taken over. Maybe that’s not what he intended, but that’s what just happened. And that could change everything in this joint from now on!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin has a pain.

Chapter 10

 

“Dr. Caputo, I have Justin out here,” said Em. “If you’d take a couple of minutes to look at him? Please?” Em gave the doctor her most ingratiating grin.

Dr. Caputo stood up from his desk, sighing. “What’s the problem this time, Emmett?”

“The boy says he has a pain in his side,” Em explained. “He’s had it for almost two days and claims it’s getting worse, but I can’t see anything the matter with him, Doc. He doesn’t have a fever and he can walk and eat, but he keeps saying that his side hurts.”

“If he was truly in pain, then why didn’t you bring him down here earlier, Emmett?” said Dr. Caputo. He opened his file cabinet and pulled out Justin’s folder. Justin had only been in Stanton for a couple of months, but he already had a substantial file.

“Well, Doctor C., it’s like this... Justin didn’t want to come over here.” Em hesitated. “And he’s been... a little... off lately.”

“Off?” The doctor frowned. “Off in what way?”

“He’s been having nightmares... and other things.”

Dr. Caputo pushed open the door of his office. “That’s understandable considering what the boy has been through since he came into this institution.”

Emmett led the doctor to the examining room. Once again Justin was sitting on the table, swinging his legs. Dr. Caputo wondered if the boy was becoming a hypochondriac. Maybe he enjoyed the attention he was getting from the doctors and from concerned inmates like Emmett. He wouldn’t be the first prisoner to have found the Hospital a good way to avoid work or boredom in the Quad.

The doctor had Justin lie on his back with his tee shirt pulled up and then he felt his way around the boy’s pale abdomen. He couldn’t see or feel anything out of the ordinary, but when his fingers reached Justin’s lower left side, the boy flinched and gasped. Em squeezed his hand tightly.

“Does that hurt, son?” Dr. Caputo asked. “Show me exactly where.”

Justin swallowed and traced a jagged line on his skin, showing the doctor where the pain was the most intense.

Dr. Caputo pressed his stethoscope carefully against the area. Then he prodded gently with his fingers. There was no heat or sound or suspicious masses. The boy had told him some odd things during his previous examination. About voices in his head. About his cellmate speaking to him. Warden Horvath had also mentioned Justin’s delusions, but both men decided to leave it for the time being and see what happened.

But one thing was certain – Justin was convinced that his cellmate was alive, even though the rest of the inmates and staff thought otherwise. And the boy was correct. Kinney, his cellmate, WAS alive over in County General, but Dr. Caputo didn’t know for how long. 

The warden had decided not to make the inmate’s fate known on the Quad. Horvath felt that if the men were standing around every day, waiting for word on Kinney, then tensions would remain high. But if they all assumed from the beginning that he was dead – as he surely would be soon – then they could settle down and get back to normal more quickly. Which is what had happened for the most part.

Except for the kid. Who insisted that his cellmate and jocker, Brian, was alive. Insisted that Kinney was talking to him. And Dr. Caputo, who had seen a lot of weird things in his years as a doctor, couldn’t very well tell the kid that he was wrong.

“Be honest with me, son,” said Dr. Caputo. “The pain you are having – where is it really coming from? Is it all in your head?”

“No,” Justin whispered. “It’s there. I can feel it. It burns. And aches.” 

“Tell me where it’s coming from, Justin,” the doctor repeated.

Justin closed his eyes. “From Brian.”

Emmett held his breath. Justin was bucking for a one-way ticket to the Psych Ward with this kind of talk! “Now, honey, you know you don’t mean that!”

“I do,” Justin said firmly. “It’s true.”

Dr. Caputo stepped over to the counter and picked up the phone. “Give me an outside line,” he said. Then he dialed a number and waited. “Connect me with the IC Unit, please.” He waited a minute. “Yes, this is Dr. Caputo over at Stanton Correctional Facility. I’d like an update on my patient there. Yes, immediately. Then give me the Charge Nurse. I’ll wait.”

“Doc, what’s up?” asked Em.

“I’m checking something,” answered the doctor. “Yes, this is Dr. Caputo at Stanton. I want to know if my patient has an infection in his wound. Kinney! The prisoner from Stanton!” Dr. Caputo waited while a voice read off words from a chart. “Never mind how I knew about the infection! Why wasn’t I informed about it yesterday? I don’t care if this man is ‘only’ an inmate – he’s MY patient and he’s in YOUR ICU and I expect you to keep me informed about any change in his condition! Yes, I AM angry!”

“Doctor?” Em asked. He glanced at Justin’s pale face. The boy was listening to every word.

“Not now, Honeycutt!” Dr. Caputo barked and then turned back to the phone. “What’s the prognosis? Is he responding to the antibiotics?” The doctor sniffed at the answer. “I want the attending physician to call me the minute he shows up there – and I mean the minute! I want some answers on this case, STAT! There is no excuse for not letting me know what’s going on with this patient. Call me if there’s any further change in his status.” The doctor slammed down the receiver. “Goddamn idiots! I should have had him transferred to Pittsburgh as soon as he stabilized.”

Em stared at Dr. Caputo. “Are you telling me that... that Brian really IS alive?”

“I already told you that, Em,” said Justin. “But I knew you didn’t believe me.”

The doctor pulled Emmett out of the examining room and shut the door. “The warden didn’t want it to be generally known that Kinney was still alive. It was his call and Horvath is the warden, not me, so... I went along with it. I didn’t think it mattered because Kinney wasn’t expected to make it over to County General. Then they didn’t expect him to live through the first 24 hours, and then the next 48. But he did. He was still unconscious, but his condition was stable. At least until yesterday.”

“What’s the matter now, Doc?” asked Em, his heart pounding.

“His wound is infected. They’re treating him with antibiotics, but the man is already extremely weak after losing a huge amount of blood, so it’s touch and go,” Dr. Caputo admitted.

“And Brian’s infection is... is in his lower left side? Right where Justin has the pain?” asked Em, feeling a shiver go through his body.

“Right there,” the doctor replied.

“But... how did Justin know? I mean... that pain he was feeling was right where... where Brian was stabbed? And where the infection was beginning?”

“How the hell should I know how the kid knew it, Emmett?” Dr. Caputo ran his hand over his balding head. “But, yes, that’s where the infection is. And Kinney is still walking the edge. IF he makes it through the next 24 hours and IF he regains consciousness... then I’d say that he’ll pull through. Otherwise....” The doctor shrugged.

Emmett held up his head and looked in the direction of the examining room where Justin was waiting. Justin had been right. Somehow he had known that Brian was alive. He had felt it. Brian had told him so. Emmett believed that now. Believed it completely.

“I’m putting my money on Brian, Doc,” Emmett said. “And Justin, too. I think they’ll BOTH beat the odds. And you can take THAT to the bank!”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Flashback to the Summer of 1970.

Chapter 11

Summer 1970 

 

After breakfast, if the weather was clear, Brian went for a long run around the gravel track that encircled the Yard.

Brian looked forward to his run. The pumping of his long legs. The feel of his taut muscles working. The crunch of the gravel under his shoes. The air rushing into his face. Running made him feel alive. And running made him feel free.

At first Ron had thought it was a waste of valuable time. When Ron exercised it was in the Gym, working with the weight machines. Ron liked to spend a minimum of time to get the maximum effect. Running seemed aimless and self-indulgent. But Brian enjoyed it, so Ron didn’t complain. Or he didn’t complain too much, except on the days when they got a late start at the Law Library because Brian didn’t want to leave the track and go inside to a stuffy office. In that way Ron thought that his boy was really still a child who needed a strong hand.

But eventually Ron found that he enjoyed watching Brian’s morning run. It was a quiet way to begin the day, sitting out in the fresh air and the early sunshine. There were some old bleachers next to the softball diamond and Ron sat there with the morning newspaper in his lap, watching his boy move relentlessly around the track. It was a beautiful sight.

And Ron wasn’t the only one who was watching. Bri had a regular little fan club who gathered every morning to watch the kid’s progression around the track. There were a few older inmates who were too powerless to attract and keep punks of their own, so they lived vicariously looking at other men’s boys and occasionally buying time from the available whores on the Quad. Then there were the queens who loved swooning over Brian’s chestnut hair, his gold and green eyes, long lashes, and even longer body. Even a couple of the jockers who had their own punks stopped by to watch the show. They were envious, but content to look at – but not touch – Mister R.’s tall prize.

And Bri was a prize. Ron marvelled over his luck every time he gazed at the boy. Ron didn’t mind other men watching his kid as long as they kept their distance. In fact, Ron wanted them to watch. Wanted them to envy. Bri Baby was the most beautiful punk in the Quad and everyone acknowledged that fact. And Bri Baby belonged to Ron, every inch of him. Everyone had to acknowledge that fact, too.

After each lap, as he passed the bleachers, Bri waved at Ron and smiled. And Ron waved back. Then he turned and gave the members of the fan club a smug smile. Sometimes Ron called out, loudly, “Don’t get over-heated, Bri!” or “One more lap and then we have to go!” 

The queens always put their heads together and giggled at the way Mister R. liked to show that HE was in charge, that HE was the boss in the relationship, when it was obvious to them that Bri Baby had the snobby lawyer wrapped around his little finger – not to mention his 9-inch dick!

Ron couldn’t believe that it had been over a year since he’d taken Brian out of the low-riders’ tip and begun the process that had transformed both of their lives. He set his newspaper aside and squinted at the track. Another guy was also running, a stocky man who was puffing as he tried to keep up with Brian’s smooth, striding pace. Brian’s hair was getting a little long, thought Ron. It was time for a trim. He noticed how it looked like molten bronze in the bright sunlight.

“Penny for your thoughts, Counselor.” A voice interrupted Ron’s musings.

“Mr. Hunt. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

The biker settled himself down next to the ex-lawyer. “Just thankin’ you for your help on that parole. I got the word this morning. Next month I’m outa this hole.”

Ron nodded. The loss of Cisco would be no skin off Ron’s ass. In fact, his absence would be one less reminder to Brian of his miserable life before Ron had intervened. Brian wouldn’t have to tense up every time he saw the bikers enter the Chow Hall or gather near the snack bar on the Yard.

“Just doing my job, Mr. Hunt,” said Ron, coolly. He noticed that Cisco’s eyes were on the gravel track. His eyes were following Brian. They were always following Brian. “Good luck on the outside. Don’t get into trouble again.”

“Trouble?” Cisco scoffed. “Me get into trouble? No way, dude!” Cisco grinned. “I’m gonna kick back with a case of beer and a couple of hot mamas. And then I’m gonna get my bike back on the road and fly, man!”

“Sounds good, Mr. Hunt. You do that.” Ron kept his distance from Cisco. He’d helped him with his parole mainly to get him out of the Quad. The low-riders were all bastards and he could never forget what they had done to Brian.

“Maybe go to Mexico. Lots of weed and women down there, you know what I mean?” Cisco poked Ron with his elbow.

“Yes, Mr. Hunt,” said Ron, moving away slightly. He didn’t want Cisco touching him. “I know what you mean.”

“Only one thing still bugs me, Mister R.” Cisco frowned.

“And what is that?” Ron’s voice was like ice on this hot day.

“The way you suckered me, Counselor. The way you cheated me outa what’s mine,” Cisco said.

“You were never cheated, Mr. Hunt,” Ron replied. “What you lost you never owned in the first place.”

“I’m talkin’ about Baby!” said Cisco.

“I know you are,” Ron answered. “I’m saying that you may have had Brian and used Brian, but you never owned him. You didn’t have the intelligence to understand what you had and therefore you lost him. You took prime goods – beauty, brains, talent – and wasted him at every turn. YOU ruined him. YOU drove him down. YOU gave up on him and auctioned him off. And I stepped in and took him. Because you are stupid, Mr. Hunt, and I am assuredly NOT stupid. And that’s why I have the most beautiful punk in the Quad. Probably the most beautiful punk in the entire prison system of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. And he’s absolutely loyal to me. Absolutely MINE, in every way.” Ron looked at the biker contemptuously. “Yes, you’ll be out of here soon. You’ll have your freedom and your bike and your skanky females. But you’ll waste that freedom, Cisco. You’ll be back inside soon enough – but hopefully not in Stanton.”

“You think you’re such a smart guy, don’t you, Counselor?” Cisco huffed.

“I know I am, Mr. Hunt,” said Ron. “That’s the difference between you and me. You think that you are smart, but you are not, while I KNOW that I’m smart. And that’s why I have Baby – and why you have shit.” Ron stood up. “So if you’ll excuse me? I have an important appointment.”

Ron walked down the wooden bleachers to the track. Brian pulled up next to Ron. His golden skin was glistening with sweat.

“Hey!” said Brian, catching his breath.

“Hey, Baby!” said Ron. He glanced up at Cisco in triumph. The low-rider got up and slunk away. Ron didn’t see him again.

“I need a shower!” said Brian. “It’s hotter than a bitch out today!”

“A shower sounds like a good idea,” Ron agreed. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s slender waist. This was his – and it always would be. “A very, very good idea. Let’s go.”

And the two of them, the man and his boy, walked off the Yard, heading back to their home on the third tier of the East Wing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian wakes.

Chapter 12

April 1978

 

He heard someone moving around him. Rattling the old Venetian blinds as they were opened. Light flooded into the room and Brian blinked. 

“Well! Someone is awake!”

A kindly woman was gazing at him. She was holding a clipboard and a towel. She set them down on a table next to the bed.

“Where am I?” Even as he rasped the words, they sounded so cliché, but he really didn’t know where he was. He tried to recall the last thing in his memory, but he couldn’t. Everything was all confused. “Am I in California? It’s so sunny.”

“No, dear, you aren’t in California,” the nurse laughed. She turned his arm over and examined a tube that was sunk into his vein. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. But he wasn’t where he should be, that was certain. “Is this a hospital?”

“You’re in County General, dear. Don’t you remember what happened to you?” the nurse asked gently.

Brian shook his head. He felt dizzy.

“Sit up a bit. You need to take your pill now.” The nurse cranked the bed slowly and then tried to get Brian to sit up. But the pain stabbed through him, shooting down his left side until he gasped. “I know it hurts, but you have to try anyway.” She put the pill on his tongue and held a cup up to his mouth, setting a plastic straw between his lips. “Swallow that down.”

He hadn’t realized how dry his mouth had been until he felt the water. It was tepid, but the sensation was delicious. He sucked at the straw desperately and tried to reach for the cup.

“That’s enough for now,” said the nurse. She had gray hair and beady brown eyes like a bird. 

She eased him back against the pillow and the pain shot through him again, this time more sharply. And that’s when he remembered. The shank. Digging into him and pulling down. The blood. Falling to his knees. And....

“Justin!” he cried. “Where’s Justin?”

“Who?” said the nurse. “You be quiet now. That pain pill should help you relax. The doctor will be in later.” She set the cup back on the table and cranked the bed down a bit.

Brian closed his eyes again and was gone.

He felt someone touching him. He flinched. It seemed like time had passed, but he didn’t know if it was minutes or days. His eyes fluttered. 

A short, glowering man was poking him. A doctor in a white coat. Another taller man in white stood nearby, also frowning. “Is the infection clear?”

“It’s no longer acute, but keep the antibiotics going. And keep him on the line, too.” The doctor made a noise in his throat. “He’s young and probably as strong as a horse. These criminals always are. He’ll thrive while decent people die.”

“Yeah, but you can’t pick and chose, Mac. I really didn’t think this one would make it this far.”

The first doctor shrugged. “We’ll patch him up and send him back. But what’s the difference in the long run? Did you talk to the guard outside? He’s in for murder. They just end up killing each other in prison. And it’s no big loss.”

“Water?” Brian whispered.

“What did you say?” said the doctor, abruptly. He was glowering again. “If you want something, then ring for the nurse.” And then the two men were gone, the door shut tightly behind them.

Brian was alone in the room. He tried to sit up and reach for the cup, but it was too painful. He was starting to feel the pain in his side again. The pill must be wearing off. And his mouth was so dry. He didn’t know how to call for the nurse, so he waited. But no one came. He found a button on the side of the bed frame and pressed it. Kept pressing it. But no one came.

He was exhausted. Where was he, really? In California? Or somewhere else? He was certain they had taken him somewhere far away. He remembered traveling a long, long distance, through some mountains. But then he had turned back.

And where was Justin? He must be here, somewhere. He was hurt, too. Brian had heard him crying. Calling out in pain. He MUST be here! Brian kept pressing the little button. But still no one came. 

Brian was in a fog again. The light was dimmer outside. Someone was touching him again. Stroking his forehead.

“Brian? Wake up now.”

“Water? Please?” He saw Ron frowning down at him. “I’m. So. Thirsty.”

“Here, Baby.” 

He lifted his head slightly and then the straw was in his mouth. He pulled the water eagerly until he finally stopped and licked his lips. “I couldn’t reach the water. I... I pressed the button, but no one came.” He settled back against the pillow, but the pain surged through him again and he whimpered. What was Ron doing here in California? And why wasn’t Justin in the room?

“What is wrong with these people!” Ron fumed. “Where are those goddamn nurses?” 

Ron looked around the bare room. The blinds were filthy and the bed was practically falling down. Even the pillowcase was ragged looking. He’d seen the other rooms on this floor of County General and they were nothing like this! 

No, poor Brian was shunted away in corner, under guard, like some dangerous outlaw. The doctors had informed Ron days ago that some of the staff refused even to enter the murderer’s room – and Ron had told them that they were fucking idiots! Ever since Brian had left the IC Unit he’d gotten this kind of treatment, but he’d been too out of it to really care. But now Brian was coming around again. There was no excuse for him to be ignored or left without water! He’d sue the bastards who ran this hospital for Brian’s pain and suffering!

Only two members of the staff, an older white woman and a young black male nurse – obviously gay – had been the least bit helpful. The older woman brought a better pillow for Brian after Ron complained about the one he had, but she was only there early in the mornings. And the male nurse was on the night shift. He usually came on duty just as Ron had to leave. But at other times Ron was afraid that Brian was being neglected. The dangerous convict was being purposely ignored!

Ron worked all day at the Prisoners’ Legal Defense and left as early as he was able in order to make the hour-long drive out to the hospital. At first he sat there, hour after hour, staring at an unresponsive figure in the Intensive Care Unit. Then, when the infection set in, it was even worse. The doctors rolled their eyes at him when he asked if Brian was likely to get better. The only one who offered even faint hope was Dr. Caputo, from the prison. Ron had seen the doctor leaving just as he was arriving, and Dr. Caputo told him that he thought Brian had turned a corner. The fever was breaking and the infection under control. That evening Brian seemed to wake up for a while, and he’d been more and more conscious, if not exactly alert, each day since then.

Ron held onto Brian’s hand and pressed the call button furiously. Finally, one of the nurses came in. Ron had already had a run-in with this bitch before. She’d come in and seen Ron holding Baby’s hand and she had the fucking nerve to question him! Was he family? No, he was Brian’s lawyer. Nice client relationship you have, she sniped. Fuck YOU, Ron had replied.

“Is there a problem?” she asked shortly.

“Yes, there’s a problem,” said Ron, his face red. “Why isn’t anyone responding to my client’s calls? He needs a pain pill! And he can’t reach his water! Is this the way you treat all your patients in this dump?”

“I’m sorry if this hospital isn’t to your client’s liking, sir,” she answered. “It’s so much better in... where he’s from. And where he belongs.”

“You mean prison?” said Ron. “You have no idea what Brian is in for – or anything else about him. And what he was convicted of is none of your damn business!”

“I’ll get his pill,” said the bitchy nurse. She left and didn’t return for an hour.

Later the male nurse, Andre, came on duty and Ron decided to stay a little longer than usual. Andre got Brian sitting up without hurting him too much and even shaved him. He had done it before, but not in a few days and Brian had been looking pretty scruffy. 

“Feel better now?” asked Andre.

“I think so,” sighed Brian, thinking it made no difference to him whether he was shaved or not. 

“He didn’t eat much dinner,” Ron told the nurse. 

Brian shrugged. The last thing he felt like doing was eating.

“Maybe if you bring him something good from home he’ll get hungry?” Andre suggested. It was obvious that the older man in the suit and the handsome prisoner were a couple and Andre was dying to know their story. He had been relating the saga to his boyfriend every day and they both were avid to find out all the juicy details. 

“Cookies?” asked Ron. But Brian just shrugged again.

It was quite late and Ron had to go. He’d never hear the end of it from Jane and he’d be dead on his feet at the office tomorrow. But he hated to leave now that Brian was able to communicate with him, even if he didn’t have all that much to say.

“Ron? Tell me,” Brian asked. “Where have they put Justin?”

Ron stopped. “Justin? What do you mean?”

“Isn’t he here? In this hospital?” Brian closed his eyes. “When I woke up I thought I was in California. I thought I’d been taken far away. Funny how you get all turned around in your head.”

“We’re about 5 miles from Stanton, Bri,” said Ron. “And that’s where Justin is. He’s fine. He was never here in the hospital.”

Brian sighed. “That’s good. I don’t know why I thought he was hurt. I guess I only dreamed it.”

Ron patted Brian’s face. “I’m working on his case, just like I promised. Julie is filing a motion to have it re-opened. The kid will get out, sooner than he knows. Really.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Brian whispered. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay, Baby,” Ron answered before he left. “Everything will be okay. I’ll see to it. I promise. You can always count on me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin can't hear Brian.

Chapter 13

May 1978

 

“Justin is going to class tonight,” Wesley told Em. He and Jackie had stopped by to walk over to the Administration Building for Miss Carver’s Creative Writing class. “Do you mind waiting a couple of minutes while he gets his stuff together?”

Emmy smiled. Justin beginning to go to his classes again was a good sign. It meant that things were slowly but surely going back to normal.

After Dr. Caputo had given Em the word that Brian was alive and in the hospital in town, he didn’t waste a second spreading the word throughout the Quad. Some of the inmates, especially Brian’s basketball buddies like Ben and Al, were mad that they hadn’t been told the truth from the beginning, but most were simply relieved. When Emmy told Michelle the news, she burst into tears and couldn’t stop crying for 15 minutes straight. 

But Justin had been strangely subdued. Everybody went out of their way to reassure the kid that Brian would be back before he knew it, as good as new. That he’d be playing b-ball and sitting in his office and going to Movie Night and doing all of the things he did before – maybe even better, because now the bikers wouldn’t be breathing down his neck.

But Justin only nodded. Both Wes and Em had been concerned about the way he was reacting. He should be happy, but instead he seemed even more withdrawn than he’d been when everyone thought that Brian was dead. 

And often Justin was angry. He had lashed out at Em and Michelle when they tried to cheer him up, and then at Lee when he had made one of his typical wisecracks. That was not like Justin at all. He had always been a peacemaker, especially among the other punks.

And he’d stormed out of another visit with his mother. The warden had arranged for Mrs. Taylor to come and see her son and even set aside one of the offices so they could have some privacy. But after about a half-hour, Justin pounded on the door and asked to be taken back to his cell. And Mrs. Taylor left the prison in tears – again.

The three waited until Justin emerged from the lonely cell. He never invited anyone into it anymore, not even Wesley. He often sat in there in the evenings alone, instead of going down to the Rec Room to play ping pong or to the TV Room or even to Movie Night. And he avoided the Yard and the Library as if they were Black Holes.

“Hey, dolly,” said Em. “You decide to join us tonight?” Emmy had appointed herself as guardian over the boys when they had to move around the Quad in the evenings. Although the low-riders were in retreat at Stanton, it didn’t hurt to be wary. And that long, dim passageway between the Quad and the Administration Building could be a scary place after dark.

Justin nodded and walked along quietly as they headed for class. Em let Jackie and Wes walk ahead while he fell into step next to Justin.

“You want to tell me what’s bothering you, honey?” asked Em. “You should be a happy little camper. Bri Baby is coming home – eventually. Maybe even sooner than we think! I heard Dr. Caputo talking to one of the docs over at County General and he seems to be coming along just fine! Doesn’t that make you happy, hon?”

“Yeah,” Justin sighed. “It makes me happy. I guess.”

Em frowned. “Tell Aunt Em what the trouble is. Because I can’t figure it out, Justin.”

Justin swallowed. “Brian – he’s stopped talking to me.”

“You... you mean in your head? Brian talking to you that way?” Em had been glad when Justin quit mentioning the voice in his head and thought that was a sign that he was getting back to normal. But Justin obviously still was NOT back to anything like normal.

“Yes,” he whispered. “He won’t speak to me anymore. Not even a word. I know that he’s THERE. I can feel him. But I can’t hear him.”

“Maybe... maybe he’s too busy to talk, honey,” said Em, lightly. “Hospitals are very busy places! Always another test to run or temperatures to take. Nurses going in and out. That sort of thing! You don’t have a lot of time for chitchat.”

“You think I’m kidding,” said Justin, bitterly. “I know you think I’m fucking crazy! But I’m not! This is important! I... I think Brian isn’t talking to me anymore because... because he doesn’t love me anymore. He doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“You mean he’s giving you the cold shoulder?” said Em. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life!”

“That’s what I think, Em,” Justin said firmly.

“That man loves you so much it should be illegal!” Em replied. “Actually, it IS illegal in a lot of states!”

“Don’t joke about this, Em. It isn’t funny to me.”

“Justin,” said Em. “When you thought that Brian was dead you were in despair. That’s when you heard that little voice that told you everything was okay. It helped you to get out of that despair! It was YOUR voice, babydoll, not Brian’s. YOUR hope and YOUR wish. That’s what you heard. And now that you know for certain that Brian is alive and that he’s going to be all right, you don’t need that little voice anymore. So it went back where it came from – back into your head. It’s as simple as that!”

“No, you’re wrong,” insisted Justin. “It WAS Brian. I heard him and felt him. I FELT what HE was feeling. We were connected! And now that’s over.” Justin stopped. He and Emmy were at the beginning of the underground passageway into the Administration Building. Wes and Jackie were already halfway through it.

“But why, hon?”

“I told you. He’s decided that he doesn’t love me anymore. That he doesn’t want me anymore.” Justin’s face was pale. “My mother told me that... that Ron has been there, in the hospital with Brian, every single day since he went in. Sitting with him. Being with him! They were together for 8 years, Em! Maybe Brian was mad at Ron for a while, but... but not anymore. Brian loves HIM. I was just... just sex. That’s what my own mother told me! That Ron explained it to her. That’s when I lost it! I started yelling at Mom. Yelling and crying. And she told me I should grow up and realize the truth. That I should stop being a desperate little faggot chasing after some man who no longer wanted me! And... and I knew she was right, Em. Because Brian was silent.”

Justin slumped against the wall and wiped some tears away on his sleeve. Emmy put his arm around the boy and patted his shoulder.

“Justin, honey,” said Em. “I think you are being a little bit of a drama queen about this. I know Brian and I know Ron. I’ve seen him with BOTH of you – and there’s no comparison! Brian was willing to put his own life on the line to save YOU. Don’t forget that! Never forget that! So give the man a little credit. Your mother doesn’t know what the heck she’s talking about! She’s being fed some cock and bull story – and Mister R. is the one feeding it to her!”

“No, Em,” said Justin in resignation. “I understand that you’re trying to comfort me, and I appreciate it. But I know the truth. And until I hear Brian telling me differently – either in my head or in person, standing right in front of me – I know it’s over. All over.”

Justin turned away from Emmett and trudged down the passageway, alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian talks to Andre.

Chapter 14

 

“Baby, I have to go now,” said Ron. He leaned over and gave Brian a kiss. It didn’t matter because the third person in the room was the black male nurse, the queer one. “I’m meeting with Julie and Ross early tomorrow morning to go over strategy for the kid.”

Brian felt a sharp pain in his gut, but not in his wound. It was a lurch in his stomach. What if Justin left Stanton before Brian ever saw him again? He closed his eyes. Maybe that would be for the best. Yes, the sooner the better. That was the only way to ensure that Justin was safe.

“Do you think he’ll get a new trial? Or can you get him out immediately? Get the charges dropped altogether?”

Ron sighed. If only it were that easy. “No, Brian. I’m sorry to say that Justin’s prosecutor, Jim Stockwell, is still throwing up roadblocks. There’s an election in November and talk is that Stockwell is definitely going to make a run for mayor. So the last thing he wants is for one of his ‘law and order’ cases to be overturned just when he’s trying to look like he’s tough on criminals.”

“But Justin isn’t a criminal!” Brian cried, struggling to sit up straighter. Now his wound was aching, too. “When will people realize that?”

“I know. That’s the argument Julie is making.” Ron licked his lips. He’d assured both Brian and Jennifer that getting the kid out would be his first priority. But it was proving a frustrating endeavor.

Ron looked around. The male nurse had been hanging around Brian’s room a lot lately. Ron didn’t like that. The guy obviously had his eye on Brian. That was understandable, but Brian was in a vulnerable position. What if this guy forced himself on Brian when he was too weak or drugged up to fight back?

“Why don’t you leave that for now?” Ron said to the nurse. “In other words – get lost.”

Brian winced. “Ron, for fucksake!”

“It’s okay, sir,” said the nurse. “I’ll leave now.” And he did.

“Why did you do that?” Brian sighed. “Andre is one of the few people in this place who is nice to me.”

“I don’t like the way he’s always hovering around you.” Ron grabbed Brian’s hand and stroked it. He wanted to stroke something else, but he knew that nurse was lurking just outside the door. The guy had already walked in once when Ron had one hand under Brian’s blanket and the other in his own pants. The guy didn’t say anything or report them to that bitch of a head nurse, but still....

“Except for Ethel, that older nurse who’s here in the mornings, Andre is the only one who does anything for me. The others all act like I’m a fucking leper! So don’t scare him away. Please, Ron?”

“I wish I could get you transferred to a different hospital” Ron exclaimed in frustration. “One in Pittsburgh. You’d get better care there than in this lousy place.”

“It’s a moot point, Ron. There’s no way they are going to move me.”

Ron sniffed. “I have to get going. I hate that damned drive back to the Pitts.” 

Ron glanced at his watch. He should have left 15 minutes ago. He’d be late meeting Jennifer at the Liberty Motel. She was supposed to have had an appointment with her new divorce lawyer that afternoon. Bill was a good friend of Ron’s and he’d make certain that Jen got a good settlement from that bastard, Craig. He was trying to make a stink about Jennifer’s conduct, but HE had more than a few skeletons in his closet, too, the fucking hypocrite! Right – ask his secretary about that! Ron would love to see the SOB squirm!

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Baby.”

“Okay,” said Brian, listlessly. “Whatever.”

After Ron left, Andre re-entered the room. “Is the coast clear?” he asked.

“Yeah, the coast is clear, man,” said Brian. Andre checked the line in Brian’s arm. Sometimes it got knocked around when Brian was trying to get himself comfortable. “Andre, how much longer do you think I’ll have to stay here?”

The nurse smiled. “Don’t you like my hospitality?”

“No, you’re great to me... it’s just that... I want to go home.”

Andre tilted his head. “You think of that prison as your home?”

Brian nodded. “It has been for the past 9 years. I’d never been outside the walls in all that time – until I was brought here. And now I want to go back. The way people look at me here, what they think about me... it’s depressing. At least in the Quad I have friends. I have my job. I feel safe.”

“Safe?” Andre exclaimed. “But you were stabbed there, man! Some mother tried to off you! How can you say you feel safe?”

“I know,” said Brian. “It sounds crazy. But that guy and his pal are gone. Ron told me that they’d been transferred out. Stanton may be a prison, but it’s the only world that I know. I guess I’m too institutionalized to be comfortable outside ever again.” Brian winced. He needed his pain pill. “Which is just as well, since I’ll probably be in stir for a long time to come.”

Andre gazed at this man. He really was beautiful. No wonder that bitchy lawyer called him ‘Baby.’ If Brian had already been in for 9 years he must truly have been a baby when he hit the Quad. Andre knew a little bit about prisons. He’d escaped that life, but he had a brother and an uncle who’d both done time. Prison was rough on anybody, but on a kid it was hell, especially a pretty white boy!

“What you in for, Brian? You never said.”

Brian smiled. “A long list of things.”

“The guard outside told all of the staff that you’d done murder.”

Brian made a face. “That’s one of them. At least, so says the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. But I’m innocent, man! Everybody in prison is innocent!”

Andre laughed. “Yeah, just like outside. Nobody is ever guilty of nothing! But, Brian, when you go back inside – what about your friend?”

“Ron? Things will go on as they always have. He’ll come to see me once a month. I’ll get pissed off at him occasionally, but he’ll still keeping coming. Ron never gives up anything he thinks is his.”

“He really a lawyer?” Andre asked.

“He was, once upon a time,” Brian replied. “He was disbarred when he was convicted, but he still works in law. He was my cellmate for 8 years. He got out last year.”

“That explains a lot.”

“No, it doesn’t explain anything, actually. I figured that you were wondering about us.”

“Of course I’ve been wondering!” said Andre. “I’m a curious queen, darling! But 8 years? With THAT man? Damn!” Andre tried to imagine putting up with that guy for so long. Lord, but love was strange!

“Ron is out and should be getting on with his life... but he won’t let it go. He’s still fucking around here, looking after me – whether I want him to or not.”

“I think you getting hurt must have scared the shit out of him, honey.” Andre thought of the man, railing at the staff when Brian was in the IC Unit. He had been angry, but he had also been terrified. “He’s just waiting for you to get out.”

Brian snorted. “Then he’s going to be waiting a long time.”

“So, this man has been your lover for 8 years, huh?” said Andre. “Then tell me – who is Justin?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy Carver looks for help.

Chapter 15

 

“Justin!” 

Amy Carver was so glad to see her prize student return to class that she walked over and gave him a big hug. No, it wasn’t allowed by the prison authorities, but she didn’t care! She was so relieved to see Justin back and looking well!

“Hi, Miss Carver,” said Justin, blushing. The rest of the boys in the class laughed and made kissing noises.

“All right, gentlemen, please settle down!” said Amy. “Justin, if you will please take your seat? I want to get started right away.”

Justin sat down in the front row between Wesley and Jackie and opened his folder. Amy began the class with Stormy reading his latest story while the boys listened and wrote down their comments. While Stormy read, Amy thought about how gutted the class had seemed without Justin. The boys had never really gotten their minds back on their work after the disturbance on the Quad, but now Amy had hopes that things would get back to some semblance of normality.

And the return of Justin might also signal the return of Brian. At first, when Amy questioned her supervisor in the Stanton Correctional Education Program, he refused to give her any information about the ‘situation’ in the prison.

“All I want to know is whether or not my student is injured! And his cellmate, as well!” Amy demanded. “I want to know if they are alive and all right!”

“It isn’t your business, Miss Carver,” she was told.

“My students are not coming to my class because of this incident and that makes it my business!” 

But the man still would not give her any information. So she wrote to the warden directly.

Three days later Amy received a call from Warden Horvath personally. He apologized for the confusion and also for the boys not appearing in class. Then he explained what had happened. About the stabbing. And also the disturbing information that her student Justin Taylor’s cellmate, Brian Kinney, was not expected to live.

Amy Carver had to sit down and catch her breath when Warden Horvath told her that. Her friend, Will Foxe, had been calling her, asking for more pieces of his manuscript. He had spoken with his editor friend, who was extremely excited at the thought of reading a prison memoir written by the infamous campus radical who was serving a sentence for murder. And now he might be dying! Stabbed by a gang member in some prison scuffle! It was too horrible!

And Justin... what would happen to him? What must he be going through? Amy remembered the stricken faces of Jackie and her older friend when they came to her class with Jackie’s story. They had been so upset! How much more upset must poor Justin have been?

But then she received another call from Warden Horvath’s assistant telling her that her student’s cellmate WAS expected to live and that Justin would return to class as soon as possible. Amy had breathed a sigh of relief. But it had also made her even more determined to get hold of Brian Kinney’s manuscript and see that it was made public. Perhaps it would allow him to get a new hearing? Or maybe a transfer to a safer prison? Anything was worth a try at this point.

Amy had not thought much about the danger her boys were faced with in their day-to-day existence. Knowledge of the sexual exploitation that Justin had detailed and that she had begun to read about in the early portions of Brian’s manuscript had sickened her. But this was about life and death! 

Stormy’s story was, as usual, about cowboys, but it was very different from his earlier pieces. Those had glorified violence and been full of shoot-outs and gleeful blood-letting. But this story was about the aftermath of a killing that seemed horribly real. It was about how the cowboys dealt with the death of their friend, who had been killed by an outlaw in cold blood. It was about their sorrow and their anger and their desire for revenge. All of the boys listened quietly while Stormy read, but Justin listened with his head resting on his desk. He didn’t write any comments. He only listened, his eyes blank.

When class was over, Justin got up and walked out before Amy had a chance to speak to him.

“Wes? Can you bring Justin back here? I’d like to speak with him,” said Amy.

“He didn’t leave yet, Miss Carver,” said Wesley. “He’s down the hall... in the bathroom.” 

“I see.” Amy wasn’t about to drag the boy out of the men’s room. He was probably in there trying to get himself together emotionally before he had to return to his cell.

The rest of the boys left for the Quad, but Amy noticed that Wesley and Jackie were waiting for Justin to emerge from the bathroom. And Amy also saw Jackie’s friend, the tall, thin, effeminate man, waiting with them.

“Mister....?” she couldn’t recall his name.

“Honeycutt, ma’am. Emmett Honeycutt,” he said, coming forward.

“I wonder if I might ask you something?” Amy beckoned him into the classroom and shut the door behind them. “It’s about Justin. And also about his cellmate, Brian. And about their future.”

Emmett raised his eyebrows at the teacher. “The future of Brian and Justin? In that case, I would LOVE to be at your service, Miss Carver. Tell me every little thing that you have to say.”


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

May 1978

 

“Justin?” Brian huffed. “How the hell do you know about Justin?”

“Well,” said Andre, putting his hands on his hips. “I’ve heard you talking about him with your lawyer friend. And....” The nurse paused and wondered how much more he should say. But he was too curious to turn back now. “I heard you calling for him, honey. More than once.”

“Me?” said Brian, frowning. “Calling for Justin?” He felt a little shiver on the back of his neck. “When was this, Andre?”

“When you were in the IC Unit. That’s not my usual station, but when you live on the night shift like I do, you and the other nurses spell each other sometimes. This is a small hospital and everyone does what they can. Besides, honey, you were so pretty that I liked going in and looking at you.”

“Shut up!” Brian laughed. “You’re such a fucking queen! You remind me of my friend, Em.”

“I’m sure she’s not nearly as fabulous as I am!” Andre looked at his watch. He was late making the rounds of the other rooms and his supervisor had warned him about spending too much time ‘catering’ to the ‘dangerous convict.’

“I’ll plead the Fifth on that one,” Brian sighed. His eyes were sad. “Was I really calling for Justin? When I... I was unconscious?”

“I heard it myself,” Andre replied. “At first I couldn’t understand what you were saying. I thought you were hurting or that you wanted something. And you DID want something, honey. You wanted that person you were calling out for.”

“I can’t remember that at all,” Brian said. 

“Of course not! You were WAY out of it!” Andre patted the man on the arm. “The docs didn’t think you was ever coming back. Nobody did. But I kind of thought you might.”

“You did? Why did you think I was coming back when the doctors had given up hope, Andre?” asked Brian. “Was it your faith in Jesus?”

Andre sniffed. “Don’t you laugh at Jesus, darling. You might need him someday and He doesn’t like people laughing at Him!” 

Brian smiled slightly, but then he closed his eyes. “Then what made you believe in my improbable return, Andre?”

“Something in the way you were talking when you were supposed to be dying,” said Andre, seriously. “Sometimes you said that name as clear as a bell. ‘Justin.’ That’s how I realized it was a name. A person. And I knew that you had someone you had to come back FOR. That’s how I knew. And I was right.”

“You were right, Andre. If I was going to come back, Justin would be the only reason.” Brian moved around in the bed, painfully. He wanted to wait until the last minute to take his pill so that it would last all night. “But I’m hoping that he gets out quickly. If they released him tomorrow, even that wouldn’t be soon enough. He never should have been arrested, let alone convicted and set to prison.”

“What’s he in for, honey?”

“Drug charge. Pot. Stuff he bought to take to a high school graduation party.” Brian winced. “And the things that have happened to Justin since then – THAT is what is criminal, Andre! I don’t even fucking want to talk about it because it makes me sick to think about.”

“How old is he, Brian?”

“He’s 19. Blond. Short. That first day he walked in the joint, he was shaking in his shoes. He was as pale and soft as a lamb. And they were on him like wolves the minute they got the chance. He ended up in the prison hospital. When he got out I hooked up with him and he became my cellmate. I wanted to protect him the way I wished that someone had protected me when I needed it, but... they never really gave up on him. It was a gang of bikers. Rotten motherfuckers. They wanted Justin and I didn’t want them to have him.” Brian shrugged. It hurt to shrug.

“And that’s how you got that, isn’t it, Baby?” Andre gently touched his finger to the dressing over Brian’s jagged wound.

“Yes, that’s how,” said Brian. “And please – don’t call me ‘Baby.’”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Andre apologized. “I thought that was your nickname. Your lawyer friend always calls you that.”

“I know,” Brian returned. “But please don’t. It’s a long story, but I rather you didn’t.”

Andre couldn’t stop himself from smoothing the hair away from Brian’s forehead. “I’ll try to remember.”

“Thanks.” Brian settled back against the pillow. “Could I have my pill now? I only want to go to sleep. That way I don’t have to think.”

Andre took the pill out of the container in the pocket of his uniform and refilled the cup with fresh water. He gave Brian the pill and watched him swallow it down. Then the nurse set the cup on the table where Brian could reach it during the night.

When Andre walked out of the room, Brian was staring up at the ceiling, as if looking for the sky. Looking for the stars. An hour later Andre looked into the room again. He was still staring, his eyes blinking, and his face wet with tears that he could never shed in the light of day.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin has nightmares.

Chapter 17

 

“Em,” said Wesley. “Justin was having those nightmares again last night.”

Wesley sat down next to Emmy on the sofa in the TV Room. She was working on a needlepoint pillow and watching ‘Charlie’s Angels.’ The queens in the East Wing never missed an episode of ‘Charlie’s Angels.’

Em set down her pillow and sighed. “Just when I think that boy is starting to get better, he goes into another tailspin! He reminds me of my Great-Aunt Lula. She’d be as right as rain and then she’d break a nail and go all to pieces! The females in our family have always been prone to the vapors.”

Wesley grimaced. “What’s the vapors?”

“Oh, a female complaint that allows a lady to get hysterical at the drop of the hat. But I think it’s only ladies in the South who get the vapors in this day and age. And also queens anywhere in the world!”

Wesley frowned. He didn’t like Emmy calling Justin a queen. “Well, whatever the heck is the matter with Justin, isn’t there something you can do, Em?”

Michelle, who was sitting next to Emmy on the sofa, had been listening to the conversation with interest. “Justin’s depressed. And the only thing that is going to snap him out of it is Brian coming back!”

“But we don’t know when that’s going to happen!” said Wesley. “It could be weeks!” Wesley’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Or Brian might never come back to the Quad. Al told me that sometimes after a guy gets stuck, they don’t bring him back to the same joint. Sometimes they send him someplace else.”

Michelle looked up in alarm. “But Brian didn’t do anything! He wasn’t the one at fault. It was that fucking Cisco and his gang!”

Wesley’s lower lip trembled. “Al says that might not make any difference. They might send him far away! Then what will Justin do?”

“Now, babydoll, don’t panic,” said Em. “I’ll ask Dr. Caputo about that. He goes over to check on Brian every day, so he ought to know how he’s doing and what they’re planning for him.” But Em began to wonder. Dr. Caputo hadn’t said anything about Brian returning to the Quad. He still had a long recovery ahead of him and if he was going to come back to Stanton, then they’d have to make special arrangements for him. And no arrangements had been made – yet.

Em stood up and handed his pillow to Michelle. “I think I’ll go and have a talk with our boy.”

Emmy walked down the tier and stopped at Justin’s cell. Wesley and Stormy had hung the wooden sign that Stormy made in the woodworking shop on the door – ‘Brian & Justin’s Place.’ Em tapped gently on it.

“Who is it?” 

“It’s me, honey,” said Em. “Come and let me in.”

Justin came to the door. His blond hair was all rumpled and his tail was dragging. He opened the cell door and let Emmy inside. Then he went back and laid down.

Em sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Feeling poorly, babydoll?”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. I... I couldn’t sleep all night.”

“Was... was Brian talking to you, honey?” Emmy asked.

Justin sniffed. “No. But I could feel him. It’s like he’s out there – but he’s always out of reach. Like he’ll never be in reach again.” Justin sat up and hugged one of the old prison pillows to his chest. “I’m glad Brian’s alive, Em, but I’m afraid that... that I’ll never see him again. What if that’s true? What if I never see him again?”

“I think you’re just being melodramatic, sweetheart,” Emmy said, dismissively. “You’ll see him again! Why, even Dr. Caputo said that Brian was doing just fine! He’s getting better and better every day!”

“I know,” said Justin, quietly. And he hugged the pillow tighter.

“Listen, honey,” Em began. He wasn’t certain about what he was going to say, but he figured it was worth a try. Justin’s teacher, Miss Carver, thought that it was important, but Em hadn’t been sure. 

Em knew that anything about his past was a sore spot with Brian. He didn’t like to talk about it and he didn’t like other people to talk about it. Unlike a lot of inmates, who couldn’t stop gabbing about their crimes and their trials and their appeals and their innocence, Brian never discussed his own case. And Ron had never discussed it with anyone else, either. Whenever anybody asked about it, they were cut off abruptly. 

So this supposed manuscript that Brian had written sounded dubious to Em. Em had known Brian for two years and never even suspected that Brian was writing anything, let alone his life story. But Miss Carver claimed to have pieces of it. Justin had given them to her behind Brian’s back. And she had shown the pages to people. Important people who thought that it could get published.

And Amy Carver had asked Emmy to get her the rest of the manuscript. But how could she do that? It would be a betrayal of Brian – and Brian was her friend! Besides, Em had no idea where the pages were hidden. Was she supposed to search the entire Quad looking for them?

Miss Carver seemed to think that if Brian’s story were published then it might get him released. Em doubted that highly. Brian had been convicted in a very public and very political trial. It would take more than just telling his side of the story to get him released, or even get him a new trial! However, it MIGHT help with the Parole Board down the line. And it might help to get his case some new attention. Attention was always a good thing, Em thought.

But Amy Craver had also told Em that she thought publishing the manuscript would help Justin almost as much as it would Brian. If the boy could do something – anything! – to help his lover get a new hearing, to find a way to proclaim his innocence, then Justin wouldn’t feel so helpless. Miss Carver has said that it would ‘empower’ Justin. That was one of those Women’s Lib words, Emmy thought, but Miss Carver could be right. If Justin had something to focus on, something that he might do for Brian, that might bring the boy out of the funk he was in.

“Justin,” Emmy said sharply. “I have a message for you from your teacher, Miss Carver.”

Justin immediately sat up. “From Miss Carver? What do you mean?”

“After class she asked to speak with me,” said Em. “About Brian’s manuscript.”

Justin stared. “She told you about Brian’s manuscript?”

“Yes, and she thinks that if we can get the entire thing to her, then... then there’s a good chance that her friend can get it published. And if it gets published....”

“Then Brian will get out!” Justin cried. “I know he will! Everyone will SEE the truth! They’ll HAVE to let him go!”

“Hold your horses, sweetheart! Miss Carver says that this may take some time, but it’s something that YOU can do, honey. You’re the only one who can get the manuscript and give it to Miss Carver. Brian isn’t here, so he’ll never know it’s gone.” 

Justin licked his lips. “But... but I don’t know how he’d feel about this whole thing, Em. What if... what if he doesn’t want it published? When I asked him before if Miss Carver could read it, he said no. So I went behind his back and gave it to her anyway. I didn’t think he’d ever find out and so no harm would be done. But this....”

“This may be his only chance, Justin. He could be in here another 10 years before he even gets a chance for parole. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Justin wailed. The thought of Brian still in this cell in 10 years was more than Justin could stand. Even if Brian never spoke to him again, it would be worth it! Worth risking anything if he could get Brian free!

“Then you need to get those pages together and give them to Miss Carver the next time you go to class,” said Em, firmly.

“But it’s not finished,” Justin sighed. 

“I don’t think that matters, honey. Give her what you can find. Brian can always finish it later,” said Em. “Or he can write a sequel! And you’ll be the star of THAT book, babydoll!”

Justin rubbed his eyes. “I’ll do it, Em. It’s the only thing I can do for Brian.” 

“That’s my boy!” said Em. She noticed that Justin’s eyes looked alive again. Now he had a sense of purpose. A crusade to help Brian – and he was the only one who could do this.

“Even if Brian ends up hating me for it,” Justin whispered. “I’m going to do it.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is restless in County General.

Chapter 18

 

May 1978

 

Dr. Rich Caputo pulled his car up into his reserved parking space in front of County General Hospital. He was tired. He had put in 10 long hours at Stanton Correctional already and he was eager to get home this evening, but he needed to check on his patient. Because he was more than a little worried about Brian Kinney.

Physically, the man was making marvelous improvement. When the ambulance carried Kinney away from the Quad that early April day, no one ever expected to see him alive again. He’d lost so much blood and the wound was a nasty one. A homemade shank like that had a jagged and dirty edge to it and made a horrible puncture. And besides the initial loss of blood, infection had set in and Brian had hovered between life and death for days. 

The doctors at County General had been ready to give up on him, but then they didn’t know Brian Kinney personally. However, Rich Caputo did know him. While the other doctors only saw a convict stabbed in a prison fight, Rich saw a life well worth saving. He’d seen how Kinney was with the kid, Justin. How he’d turned him around mentally and gave him the will to live after he was raped. And how he’d put his own life on the line to save Justin from the low-riders. 

But also how Kinney had always been a peacemaker on the Quad, mediating between groups and individual men at odds. He continued what the lawyer, Rosenblum, had begun by cooperating with Baraka, the leader of the Bros in the South Wing, which kept down racial tensions. And he always made certain that all of the men knew their rights and got a fair shot with the Parole Board and with the warden.

So Rich Caputo had been pleased, if rather amazed, when the man turned the corner and began to inch back to life, slowly but surely. But then Rich had noticed that Kinney was depressed. That wasn’t unusual, considering the shock he’d endured. Men who lived through serious injuries often backlashed emotionally. The realization that they were mortal and vulnerable and the prospect of a long, painful convalescence often threw even the most stable person into despair. 

But the thing that worried Rich Caputo most was that Brian was now backsliding physically. After rallying so strongly, he was losing weight and seemed to be getting weaker. His blood pressure was low and he was listless. The doctors looked around for a new infection and put him on more antibiotics. And they were still pumping liquid into him, trying to keep him hydrated. But the spark seemed to have gone out of the man.

And his ‘family’ wasn’t helping the situation.

Rich had been astonished when he walked into Brian’s guarded room and found Ron Rosenblum sitting at his bedside. Yes, the two had been cellmates and, according to the gossip on the Quad, hooked up for a number of years. But seeing the man in Kinney’s room, holding onto his hand and glaring at the staff like a watchdog, was a shock. That he would be allowed to take the place of Brian’s family in this situation was something the doctor had not expected.

When Caputo took it up with Mac McHaffie, the County General doctor in charge of Brian’s case, Mac had directed him to the head nurse of the ward, who showed Rich a document from Warden Carl Horvath himself, saying that Ronald Rosenblum was Brian Kinney’s ‘official family representative’ and that as such was to have unlimited access to the patient. 

Rich Caputo frowned when he read that. After talking with members of the staff, who kept referring to Rosenblum as the prisoner’s lawyer, Rich was certain that none of them knew the man was also a former inmate himself – and Kinney’s boyfriend. Of course, now all of the nurses were well aware of that fact because they were constantly walking in on Ron holding the patient’s hand or touching him. And Rosenblum snapped at the staff like a cranky spouse, making demands and threatening to have them all fired.

So it didn’t surprise Rich Caputo to walk in and find Rosenblum standing in the hallway, railing at one of the nurses. The nurse on the receiving end of the tirade was Andre, one of the few male nurses at County General. He had talked to Rich a number of times about Kinney and mentioned that the patient was getting more depressed. That was what had alerted Rich to the seriousness of the situation. He felt that Andre was a very good and caring nurse.

Rich had also figured out pretty quickly that Andre was a fag. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, Rich thought it made him particularly attentive to an attractive male patient like Kinney. But Ron Rosenblum had apparently noticed it as well, and he didn’t like that extra attention Brian was getting one little bit.

“I want you to stay the fuck OUT of Brian’s room!” Ron yelled, poking Andre with his finger.

But the nurse didn’t back down. “I’m only doing my job, sir. I’m only doing what’s best for my patient.”

“What’s best is for you to butt the hell out!” Ron fumed. The C.O. assigned to sit in his chair outside Kinney’s room and read magazines all day watched the scene in amusement, but didn’t make any move to step in. A few other nurses stood next to the nurses’ station and shook their heads. 

“Excuse me!” said Dr. Caputo, moving between the two men. “This happens to be a hospital! There are people here who are ill and need peace and quiet!”

“Then tell this so-called nurse to stay away from Brian!” Ron huffed. 

“I came in to give Mr. Kinney a new hospital gown and I was helping him change into it,” explained Andre.

“You were helping yourself! That’s what you were doing! I saw you!” Ron insisted. “This guy can’t keep his hands off my client! If this is the level of care he’s getting in this dump, then I’m going to see about getting him transferred into Pittsburgh, either to St. Vincent or City Hospital.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Rosenblum,” said Dr. Caputo, evenly. “Brian is getting excellent care here. Besides, I doubt that Warden Horvath would okay a switch at this stage of his recovery.”

“You think getting felt up by the staff is good care? You think being ignored and not getting water or his pills on time is good care?” Ron’s face was red. “I think it’s fucked! This whole hospital is FUCKED!”

Dr. Caputo sighed and gestured to the C.O. It was ridiculous to have a 24-hour guard on a man who could barely walk to the bathroom, let alone run away, but that was prison policy. “Officer, please escort Mr. Rosenblum to his car. I think everyone needs to cool down right now.”

“You can’t make me leave!” Ron sputtered. This damned quack! He was like all the others!

“If you don’t go now, I’ll speak to the warden about having you barred from visiting Mr. Kinney at all,” said Rich Caputo. “This isn’t the first time you’ve caused trouble with the staff here, Mr. Rosenblum.”

“That’s because I’m the only one looking out for Brian’s interests!” Ron yelled in frustration. “They treat him like he’s some kind of pariah! HE was the victim in that attack! He doesn’t need an armed guard. And he doesn’t need some creep groping him when he’s too weak to resist. THAT is what is causing the trouble here – not me!”

“Please, Mr. Rosenblum,” Rich urged. “Go home and calm down. And when you come back tomorrow try to be a little more considerate of the staff. They are all doing the best they can for Brian.”

“Bullshit!” said Ron under his breath. But he realized that he was outnumbered here. They’d be sorry for this debacle. He’d call Horvath and ream him out royally! But then Ron allowed the C.O. to usher him out of the building. 

Rich rubbed his forehead. It was throbbing. He was hungry and it was long past dinner time. He’d catch hell from his wife Nancy once again. 

“I think you should also step back, Andre,” he told the male nurse. “Your presence, at least when Mr. Rosenblum is visiting, is a distraction.”

“But Dr. Caputo....” Andre began. 

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Just stay out of Mr. Kinney’s room and out of Mr. Rosenblum’s way,” Rich said flatly. “That’s the end of it. I don’t want to hear about any more confrontations.”

Andre shook his had. “I dig you, Doc,” he said sadly. And he turned and went down the other hallway into the next ward.

Dr. Rich Caputo walked into Kinney’s room. Brian was lying in the bed, looking extremely pale. “So, who got ejected? Ron or Andre?” he asked with a wan smile.

“Both – for now.” Rich picked up the chart. Kinney wasn’t eating. His temperature had spiked again overnight. And he wasn’t sleeping, either.

“That should make it a lot quieter around here,” Brian sighed. “Now no one will come into my room at all. I guess that’s just as well.”

“Ron said that the staff was ignoring you, Brian. And then he accused of Andre of paying too much attention to you. So, which is it?” Dr. Caputo asked.

“It depends on your point of view,” Brian explained. “During the day no one comes in here for hours at a time. I don’t know if they’re too busy or if they’re just afraid of me. With an armed guard sitting outside of the door, I guess I don’t blame them.”

“You’re hardly a dangerous character. No offense, Brian,” the doctor said.

“None taken. But they don’t know that. All they know is that I’m a criminal. A murderer. The only people who even speak to me like I’m a human being are Andre and the morning nurse, Ethel. The rest....” Brian shrugged. It still hurt to shrug. His muscles ached. Any time he moved it seemed like his stomach was on fire, with the pain radiating from his wound. “It’s a little depressing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Brian?” asked Dr. Caputo. 

Brian looked at the doc. He was a nice guy, but he had better things to do than to listen to Brian bitch. No one wanted to hear that. “It’s not your problem. This isn’t a vacation resort, it’s a hospital. That’s what that doctor here keeps saying. That I’m lucky I’m alive and should be grateful that they even bother treating me.”

Rich Caputo was brought up short. “Did one of the doctors here tell you that?”

“He didn’t say it to me, but he said it to the other doctor with him.” Brian laughed. That REALLY hurt! “They rarely talk TO me here, Doc. It’s more like they talk OVER me, usually while they’re sticking me with a needle.”

“I’m sorry, Brian. Nothing like that should happen to any patient, prisoner or not,” said Rich. Maybe he’d been too hasty to dismiss Rosenblum’s complaints. He hated to think of this man, lying in this bed day after day and being treated as something less than human.

The doctor looked at the set-up in the room. Brian was still on the drip, but nothing else too high tech. Nothing they couldn’t handle back at Stanton. And with Emmett working on the ward, he’d get plenty of company. And his cellmate, the kid, could come down and visit him. If there was an emergency, he could easily be transferred back to County General in the prison ambulance. 

Rich Caputo gazed at Kinney’s face. There was nothing but hopeless resignation in it.

“Let me ask you this, Brian,” he said. “How’d you like to go home?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise return.

Chapter 19

 

“Emmett?”

“Yes, Dr. Caputo?” 

Em had been folding sheets and pillowcases that had just come back from the laundry. It was an easy task, but it was boring. Anything that the doc had for her to do was likely to be more interesting than putting away linen.

“I want you to get the annex room ready. Make up the bed and put the place in order,” said the doctor. He was glancing at some charts and shuffling papers around.

“Who are you putting in there, Doc, if I may be so bold to ask?” 

No one on the ward was contagious – at least that Em knew of. In fact, the Hospital had been pretty empty lately. Only a few inmates were in the main ward, all with minor complaints, mostly colds and coughs. Dr. Caputo had been spending most of his time over in the geriatric ward, dealing with two elderly inmates who were slowly dying. That, and going over to County General every day to see to Brian.

Emmy always asked how Brian was doing and Dr. Caputo always replied, “Coming along, Emmett, coming along.” He never said anything more detailed or more encouraging. But Em took that as a plus. At least he didn’t shake his head and look grim the way he did whenever he headed over to the geriatric ward. Em was glad she didn’t work there. It was too depressing.

“New patient,” said the doc, shortly. “Take good care of him, okay?” And then he made his way over to the other ward.

The annex room was usually reserved for inmates who were contagious, or for very sick patients who needed extra peace and quiet. And occasionally it housed inmates withdrawing from drugs whose moans might upset the rest of the ward. That made Em guess that they had a new addict coming in, maybe from another prison or from one of the county lock-ups. Warden Horvath insisted that any addicted prisoner either kick his habit before he joined the general population or else be sent to the Psych Center in Harrisburg for further treatment.

Em put clean sheets on the bed and plumped up the pillow. Then he opened the window and let in some fresh air. It was May and the air smelled like wet grass and rain. Em looked out the window at the Quad. Even in the middle of the day when most of the men were at work, the basketball courts were full and there was a long line at the snackbar.

Em hoped that they’d have ice cream at dinner. Ice cream always made Emmy feel like summer was really coming soon. 

The window sill was dusty, so Em wiped it off. And the curtains needed to be washed, but they were so old she was afraid they’d just disintegrate in the machine. Barbie was good at sewing. Maybe Dr. Caputo would kick in for some swag or credit from the Canteen in return for Barbie making new curtains. Actually, the entire ward could use some spiffing up, Em thought.

Emmy strolled out of the annex room on her way back to the main desk. That’s when the ward doors opened and a stranger walked in. It was a black man in a crisp white uniform. He looked around, warily. A guard walked in behind him, gestured in Em’s direction, and then walked out.

“Excuse me!” said the newcomer in a commanding tone. “Are you the orderly on duty?”

Em immediately bristled. Some strange queen was invading HER ward!

“I’m Emmett Honeycutt.” Em sauntered over. “How can I help you, honey?”

“I’m looking for Dr. Caputo,” said the queen, imperiously. She surveyed the ward with distaste. One of the inmates in a corner bed coughed and the queen frowned.

“Dr. C. is over in the geriatric ward, but he should be back here soon,” said Em, coolly. “If you don’t mind waiting.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” snapped the queen. “We are bringing in a new patient today. Is there some OTHER place where you keep patients here? I mean, somewhere other than this dormitory?”

“I’m sorry if our facilities aren’t up to your usually high standards,” Em returned. Who did this bitch think she was to barge into HER ward and start making insulting comments? Maybe the curtains were a little tattered and maybe the linen wasn’t exactly new, but this was a prison, not a 4-star hotel! 

Em always did the best she could to make the place pleasant and clean. And there was no call for this nelly bottom to look down her nose at Em just because she was only an orderly. Em had plans – big plans! When she got out of the joint she’d get a loan and go to school and get her Practical Nursing degree! Maybe THEN she’d get a little respect!

“Is there another room in here? For my incoming patient?” asked the stranger.

The annex room, thought Em. Of course! That’s why the doc had wanted it fixed up.

“Right this way.” Em led the queen to the annex room. She went in and walked around, checking out the bed and looking out the window. “Don’t you have any monitoring equipment in here?”

“If Dr. C. says that we need it, then we’ll bring it in, I’m sure,” Em replied. 

“Well, I suppose it will have to do.” The queen frowned. “Where are the call buttons?”

“We don’t have any. If the patient wants a nurse – he calls for one. With his mouth,” said Em. 

“And what if he’s too weak to talk? Or is in distress?” The queen made a face. “It’s like the damn Dark Ages in here!”

Em didn’t answer. But she was getting madder by the minute.

“Emmett!” She heard Dr. Caputo calling.

“We’re in here, Doc!” Em replied.

Dr. Caputo came into the room. “Hello, Andre,” he greeted the invading queen. “How are things going?”

“Doctor, you don’t expect me to leave my boy in this place?” said Andre, glaring at Emmett. Dr. Caputo went back into the ward and Em and the strange nurse followed. “There are no facilities here! The bed in that little room doesn’t even have a call button! I think we should take him back right now!”

Dr. Caputo shook his head. “I’m sorry, Andre. The decision has already been made. Unless there’s a deterioration in his condition, he’s going to stay right here until he’s fit to return to his tier. So why don’t you go and tell them to bring my patient in?”

Andre sighed deeply and stalked out of the ward, the door swinging behind her.

“Doc, what’s going on?” asked Em.

“Is the annex prepared?” Dr. Caputo strode to the desk and flipped through some files.

“All ready – even if SOME people don’t think so,” Em sniffed.

“Andre is only taking care of his patient, Em,” said the doctor. “He’s an excellent nurse. That’s why I asked him to ride over in the ambulance from County General.”

Em blinked. “County General Hospital?”

But then the ward doors swung open. Andre was squawking at the men who were rolling the gurney onto the room. 

“You be careful there! My boy has been bounced around enough already today without you making things worse!” Andre ordered. “I cannot believe that they keep sick people in this warehouse! I wouldn’t leave my dog here, let alone a man who’s recovering from a nasty wound!”

Em rushed over to the gurney, which Andre had stopped next to the desk. He stared down at the new arrival. 

“Oh, my God!” cried Em. “Brian?”

“Hey, Emmett,” whispered Brian, wincing. The bumpy ride from the town hospital to Stanton had been torturous and the line into his arm had been dislodged when they took him out of the ambulance. “Long time no see, huh?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron gets a surprise.

Chapter 20

 

“I’m sorry, Jen, but that’s the way it is.” Ron put on his jacket and straightened his tie while he looked at himself in the mirror.

“But you said that Justin would be out SOON! How much longer is it going to be?” Jennifer dabbed at her eyes with a kleenex. She was always doing that. She burst into tears at the drop of a hat these days.

“Julie says that Stockwell is putting the screws on that damn judge,” said Ron. “If he wins his party’s nomination for mayor then it’s going to be even harder to get your son out, Jen. It stinks, but that’s the reality of the situation.”

“Justin could be in there for another year!” she cried. “Or even longer! I don’t think I can stand it!”

Jennifer was shaking. She’d had a gigantic fight with Craig that afternoon. She had come back from seeing her lawyer and asked Craig to move out, as the lawyer had suggested. And Craig had been totally unreasonable. Not only had he refused to move out, but he threatened to ask for custody of Molly. 

Ron assured her that Craig was only blowing smoke, but Jennifer wasn’t so sure. When Craig had confronted her there at the Liberty Motel, he was so angry she was certain that he’d kill her. But his WASP sense of propriety stopped him. It wouldn’t do to have his golf buddies at the country club read about such a sordid scene. So Craig had shoved Jennifer around a bit and then sped off. But since then it had been open warfare between the two, with each side lining up their lawyers and charges and counter-charges until it was ugly – very, very ugly.

And now it looked as if Justin wouldn’t be getting out any time soon.

Jennifer started crying again when she thought of the look on her son’s face when she saw him at the prison that last time. The cold fury in his voice. The defiance. And the way Justin had once again walked out on her. She’d seen Craig’s face in Justin that day – angry, hurt, irrational, lacerating.

And, of course, she had run directly to Ron. He was the only one who didn’t turn away from her. The only one who even promised her any hope. And now he was telling her that hope was slipping away. All because of that dreadful Jim Stockwell and his political ambitions!

“I have to be getting over to the hospital to see to my client,” said Ron. 

His client. He meant Brian. Her son’s lover. Jennifer knew it was a terrible thing, but she had wished, silently, that the man would die of his wound. He had been so badly injured that everyone was sure he would. And Ron had been frantic about it. He even demanded to see the warden of the prison and came out of that meeting with permission to visit Brian. As his ‘family.’ 

Jennifer shuddered. Whenever she questioned Ron too much about his relationship with Brian, he either became angry with her or he froze her out altogether. Exactly the way Justin did. The same response over the same man – Brian Kinney. Jennifer didn’t even try to understand what it was all about. It was beyond comprehension by her mind. And so she had hoped that the man would fade away, painlessly, but irrevocably. And then both her lover and her son could forget about him forever.

But, no. Brian was alive and getting better. Now Ron was talking about getting him transferred, this time to a minimum security prison about 40 miles north of Pittsburgh. If he could make the case that Brian was in danger at Stanton, that he had been an exemplary prisoner for a decade, even that he was a famous inmate who had been subject to harassment in Stanton, then it was possible that he might be moved. Jennifer sighed. At least if that happened he’d be out of her son’s reach.

“Don’t forget to give Bill all of those financial statements,” Ron instructed. “It’s important. We don’t want that bastard, Craig, hiding any of his assets. Do you understand?”

Jennifer nodded. Then Ron leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. And then he was gone. On his way to see his other lover. His male one.

The weather was beautiful. A clear May night. Ron put down the windows as he drove and smelled the wet, green smell from the fields of farmland outside of the small town where Stanton Correctional Facility for Men was the main employer.

Ron pulled up to County General Hospital and parked. He was late, as he often was on the nights when he saw Jennifer. She was always so weepy lately. That was tiresome. He had to spend a lot of time wiping those tears before they could get down to brass tacks. And then she was weepy afterwards, too. He wondered if her little blond son was half as much trouble as his mother. But it was worth it for that creamy pale skin and blonde hair. At least, it was worth it for the time being.

Ron strolled into the hospital and the staff didn’t even glance his way. They were used to him and gave him a wide berth. He’d made a stink over their treatment of Brian and they didn’t like it. He’d confronted that bitch of a head nurse and that queer male nurse, too. He’d shown them that he couldn’t be pushed around! 

And that damned Dr. Caputo having him put out by the guard! He’d been on the phone to Horvath first thing in the morning to tell him that Caputo would be sorry if he ever pulled a stunt like that again!

Ron stopped in front of Brian’s room. Something was wrong, but at first he didn’t know what. Then he realized. The C.O. who was usually stationed by the door was gone. It was about time! They finally realized that Brian wasn’t about to get out of bed and walk away!

Ron pushed open the door of the room. And saw that it was empty.

He looked at the clock. It was after 8:00. They wouldn’t have Brian out of the room for tests at that hour. Unless – unless it was an emergency!

“Nurse!” Ron yelled, sprinting to the nurses’ station. “Where’s my client?”

The nurse blinked at him. “Your client, sir?”

“Mr. Kinney! The patient from Stanton Correctional!” Ron exclaimed. “Did he have a relapse? Is he back in the ICU? Tell me, for God’s sake!”

“Oh, you mean the prisoner,” the nurse replied. “No, he didn’t have a relapse. And he’s not in the ICU.”

“Then where the hell is he?” Ron demanded impatiently.

The nurse narrowed her eyes at him. This guy had been a pain in the ass from the get-go. She’d be happy never to have to deal with him again! “He’s been moved, sir.”

“Moved?” Ron was ready to grab the woman and shake her. “Moved WHERE? I want to know where they’ve taken Brian!”

“Back to the prison,” the nurse stated flatly. “They moved him out this afternoon.”

Ron stood back from the desk. “No! They can’t! No one told me! No one asked me!”

“They can and they did, sir,” said the nurse. “The doctor from the prison sent an ambulance over and he was taken back there. One of our nurses went along to supervise. He’s now in their prison ward and he’s their responsibility. If you want any more information, you’ll have to call Stanton and talk to someone there.” The nurse turned away, ending the conversation.

“Shit!” Ron whispered. He wheeled around and walked out of the hospital. “Fuck!” He stood on the steps and stared up at the clear, endless sky. “Goddamn it!” he cried. “Brian!”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Em searches for Justin.

Chapter 21 

May 1978

 

“Where’s Justin?” asked Em, sticking his head in the Rec Room.

Wesley looked up from his homework. Emmy’s face was all flushed and she still had on her orderly uniform from the Hospital. “Why do you want to know, Em? Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter at all, babydoll!” said Em, excitedly. “I just need to know where Justin is!” 

Wesley licked his lips. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. And he stared down at his notebook.

Em frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You and Justin are as tight as a couple of sailors on shore leave! Now tell me where he is!”

Wes shrugged. “He’s off with Stormy... somewhere.”

“Stormy?” Em wasn’t crazy about Stormy. That kid had an attitude problem. He thought he was a tough guy and was always mouthing off to the queens, as if he didn’t take it up the ass regularly, just like all the other punks! When Brian had been in the Quad, Justin didn’t hang around Stormy all that much, but things had been different in a lot of ways in the weeks Brian had been gone. 

“Yeah,” said Wes. “That’s who he’s with. And Lee – I think.”

“Well, where are they?” Em was getting impatient. He and Dr. Caputo and the queeny nurse from County General had gotten Brian settled into the annex room, but the doc wouldn’t let Em leave until her shift was over. She could hardly wait to run back up to the tier and get Justin. Em loved nothing better than a big surprise and she was savoring the thought of a happy reunion between the two!

“Why ask me? They didn’t invite me to go along!” Wesley huffed.

“Invite you to go along where?” Honestly, thought Em, getting information out of Wesley was like pulling teeth!

“To Lee’s place over in the South Wing.”

“The South Wing?” That brought Em up short. She would have thought that the South Wing was the last place Justin would venture. Yes, the low-riders were a spent force, but the ones who were still around all celled in the South Wing.

And Lee. That kid was trouble, too. He was Big Chuck’s punk and one of the busiest little whores in the Quad. Chuck was constantly short of money and he vended out his punk in return for swag and credit – and drugs. Big Chuck was a big user and he traded Lee’s ass to get his dope, mainly from the Mexican gang.

Em grabbed Wesley’s arm and gave him a shake. “What is Justin doing over in the South Wing with Stormy and Lee?”

Wesley made a face. “Getting high. What do you think?”

Em’s mouth fell open. “What the fuck are you talking about? Justin doesn’t do that!”

Wesley’s look was mournful. “Yes, he does. At least, he’s been doing it lately. Mainly with Stormy and Zack. Stormy gets some pot from Lee and he and Justin go and smoke it in the Law Library. With Brian gone, nobody is working in there and Justin has the key. But the last couple of days they’ve been going over to the South Wing with Lee while Big Chuck is at work and smoking over there.”

“That little asshole! Smoking what? Just weed?” Now Em was alarmed. Yes, Justin had been acting weird recently, but Em had never suspected that he was doing something like this!

“I don’t know,” said Wesley. “I guess it’s just weed. They don’t tell me anything, Emmy. They know that Al would kill me if he caught me using drugs, even a little pot!” Wesley looked up at Em. “Justin’s my friend, but he doesn’t tell me things anymore. He just sits in his cell and thinks about depressing stuff. He won’t talk about it, but he’s hurting. Maybe that’s why he goes with those guys to get stoned. Maybe he just wants to forget his troubles.”

“But drugs are no fucking way to do it!” Em exclaimed. She turned and headed out of the Rec Room.

“Em! Where are you going?” said Wesley, getting up and following him.

“Over to retrieve our little wanderer,” said Em, grimly. “I have a surprise for him down in the Hospital that will be completely ruined if he’s too shit-faced to appreciate it!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin needs help -- fast!

Chapter 22

 

Emmett did not like entering the South Wing. 

Besides being the former preserve of the low-riders, the South was the territory of Loretta, the leader of the black queens. Loretta saw Em as her chief rival in the Quad and they had an unspoken agreement that they would stay off each other’s turf. There had been a few exceptions to that rule, the most notable being Brian’s birthday party, but that had been a very special occasion.

Most of the men in the South Wing worked in the Industry Building, either in the machine shop or woodworking, so it was fairly quiet when Em walked onto the first tier. 

South Wingers tended to be minorities or gang members, harder core than the East Wing, which housed most of the older and more white collar inmates. The Bros had their turf in the South Wing and so did the Mexican gang. A white queen had to be wary before coming into an area where she hadn’t been invited.

Em knew that Big Chuck’s cell was somewhere on the first tier, but she didn’t know where. There was a C.O. at the desk who glanced at her but then let her pass. All the C.O.’s recognized Em and knew that she wasn’t a troublemaker. Most of the gang-activity was on the upper tiers and Em knew that if she’d had to venture up there, the C.O.’s would have scrutinized her a lot more thoroughly and may have even stopped her.

She walked slowly down the tier, sniffing for the tell-tale scent of marijuana. With the clear May weather, it was beginning to get warm in the Quad, so small fans were whirring in a few of the cells. If the boys were in one of them smoking, then they would probably have the fan running, blowing the smoke out the window.

Em noticed that an old sheet was hung up clumsily over the front of one of the cells. That usually meant that something was going on inside that someone didn’t want outsiders to see. When the East Wing C.O.’s saw it, they usually made you take it down, but apparently the guards over in the South didn’t bother with such small infractions.

“Justin?” Em called into the cell. There was no answer, so she rattled the door and called a little louder. “Justin? Are you in there? Answer me, hon!”

She could hear some whispering inside, so Em leaned closer against the bars. Then she could smell the pot, that slightly sweet, slightly sickening aroma.

“Justin?”

“Fuck off!” came a voice. It wasn’t Justin or Stormy, so it must be Lee. Em didn’t know this punk very well, except by his reputation, which wasn’t good. She knew that Lee was in Justin’s Creative Writing class. That’s how Justin had gotten to know the kid. Ordinarily boys in the East Wing and the South Wing wouldn’t mingle that much. There was a natural rivalry there, between both jocks and punks. East Wingers thought the South was full of troublemakers, while the South Wingers thought the East was soft.

“Open this door,” said Em, darkly. “Now! If you don’t, I’m getting the C.O. and having HIM open it!”

“Shit!” she heard from inside. Then some more whispering and moving around.

Lee came to the door. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his work pants were undone and barely hanging onto his scrawny hips. He also had a joint hanging from his lips. “What the fuck do you want?” Lee sneered at Em.

Em glared down at Lee. Lee thought he was a hard guy, but he was about 8 inches shorter than the tall queen. “I’ve come to get Justin.”

Lee took a toke on the joint. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to come and get him. Did that little weasel Wes send you over here? He’s a fucking squealer!”

Em pressed his lips together, trying to control her temper. “I need for Justin to come with me right now!”

Lee stepped aside. “Ask him yourself.”

Em ducked under the sheet and walked into the cell. The first thing she noticed was the smell. Besides the odor of the pot, the place stunk of dirty clothes and garbage. Lee obviously didn’t spend much time cleaning up the place. He was probably too busy turning tricks to keep the place up and Big Chuck didn’t seem to give a damn. Some guys were just pigs. 

Stormy was sitting on the floor of the cell in his underwear, sucking on another joint. He saw Em and turned up his nose. He reached over and handed the joint to Justin, who was lying on the bottom bunk, naked.

“Hey, Em,” he chortled. Justin took a hard pull and blew out the acrid smoke. He was stroking his partially erect dick with his right hand. “Come to join the party?”

“No, thanks. I don’t feel much like partying right now. Tell me, are you on anything else besides that weed, Justin?” asked Em. She was trying to keep her voice steady when what she wanted to do was kick the asses of all three of these stupid boys.

Justin snorted and handed the joint back to Stormy. “Just some ’ludes. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

“Get up!” Em ordered. But Justin only lolled on the bunk, giggling. Em grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him off the mattress and onto the floor. “I said get UP! NOW!”

Justin hit the floor hard and groaned while Stormy laughed. Lee sat down next to Stormy and prodded Justin with his bare foot. “Busted, bitch!”

“You boys think this is pretty funny, don’t you?” asked Em.

“Look who’s acting so high and mighty! MISS Emmy!” Lee sniffed. “You’re just some dumb old drag queen! You look at me like I’m trash, but you’re nothin’ but a big whore yourself!”

Em ignored Lee and fumbled around on the dirty floor of the cell until she found Justin’s clothes. The boy was sitting up, looking dazed. He held his head.

“Get dressed,” said Em, more gently. “You’re coming with me.”

Justin stood up slowly and unsteadily. He glanced at Stormy and that boy looked away, unable to meet his friend’s eyes. But Lee just kept sneering.

Justin pulled on his grey shorts and his workpants. Em couldn’t find Justin’s tee shirt in the mess on the floor, so he just put on his workshirt and buttoned it over his pale, bare chest.

“I don’t feel so well, Em,” Justin whispered. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He stumbled to the toilet and threw up into it. Sweat was pouring down his face and the back of his neck.

“I’m not surprised at you, Lee,” said Em to the other two boys. “You’re nothing but a low-class punk, after all. But Stormy – I thought you were Justin’s friend? I don’t think Junior would like what you’ve been up to – or who you’ve been hanging out with.”

“What the fuck’s the difference, Emmett?” Stormy spat. “This is prison! I’ve been in and out of jail practically my whole fucking life! You do what you can to pass the time. It’s nobody’s business.”

“It IS my business, Stormy, especially when you drag Justin into it,” Em replied. “He hasn’t been in and out of the joint all of his life. He’s got a chance to get out of here with his soul still intact. Justin has already had some rotten breaks and this doesn’t help things. You think getting stoned and fucking around with you two is helping him? You think that’s the answer to his misery?”

Lee laughed. “If it fucking feels good, then do it! Leave the sermons to Father Bob!”

Justin was throwing cold water on his face at the sink. He walked back to Em, his eyes on the floor. “Don’t blame them, Em. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. I’ve done drugs before. Why do you think I’m in here? When I got arrested, that wasn’t the first time I’d bought or smoked pot. I’ve been smoking since I was 15. And I’ve used Quaaludes and coke, too, plenty of times.”

Em sighed. “So it’s okay to get stoned and let these punks use you? Let them fuck you? How does that numb your pain, Justin?” 

“Who cares?” Justin murmured. “I lost count of how many times those bikers fucked me in that little room, Em. How many times they jacked off in my mouth and in my face. Pissed on me. You don’t give a shit after a while. You don’t feel anything.”

“And you didn’t feel anything with Brian?” said Em. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“He’s GONE!” Lee drawled. “Everyone is sitting around waiting for the Great Brian to return to the Quad! It ain’t gonna happen! So why pretend any different?”

“Come on.” Em took Justin’s elbow and pulled him from the filthy cell. They walked slowly down the tier. Outside of the dim space, Justin looked haggard. His eyes were red and his hair dirty from lack of washing. He also smelled of sweat and come. “We need to get you back to the East Wing.”

They left the South and cut across the Yard. The late afternoon sun was bright. A lot of the men were just getting out of their jobs and they took a few minutes to stop in the Yard and enjoy the sunshine.

“It isn’t their fault, Em,” Justin repeated as they crossed the grass. “Like I said, I haven’t been doing anything I didn’t want to do.”

Em shook his head. “You think you wanted to, babydoll, but it’s all about managing your pain. About numbing yourself so it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“It isn’t working, Em,” Justin whispered. “After Brian stopped talking to me at night I’d beg him to say something – anything! – just to let me know that he still cared about me. And a few times I thought... I thought I could feel him touching me. Reaching out to me. But... it was too faint. I knew that he’d abandoned me. I kept thinking about what my mother told me. That Ron was taking care of Brian now. That he was with him in the hospital. That I meant nothing to Brian except as a convenient fuck.”

“That’s why he put himself up against Cisco and all of the low-riders to save you? For the sake of a convenient fuck?” asked Em. “Honey, in Brian’s world I was a convenient fuck! Any queen in the East Wing was a convenient fuck! Brian didn’t need to hook up with you for sex. He did it because....”

“Then it was because he felt sorry for me!” Justin interrupted. “He never would have done it if he hadn’t found me on the floor, bleeding from the ass! That’s all it was, Em. Pity.” 

“And after having that done to you, after surviving the low-riders, you think that letting Stormy and Lee get you high and fuck you is a solution? THAT is taking away your pain?”

Justin shrugged. His face was blank. “Sex feels good. And I kept thinking that the last person to fuck me wasn’t Brian. It was Cisco. I didn’t want him to be the last one. I wanted to get the feel of him out of me. I wanted someone to fuck me so hard that I’d never feel Cisco again. Never feel any of the bikers ever again. But it isn’t working, Em. It isn’t enough.”

Justin’s face crumbled as the tears fell silently down his pale face.

Em put her arm around the boy and held him while he wept. “I know, honey. I know. But I think I might have the cure. But first we have to get you cleaned up.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion.

Chapter 23

 

Emmett opened the door of Justin’s cell with the boy’s key and led him inside. 

She immediately stripped off Justin’s clothes and washed him at the sink. Justin stood and let Em do it, occasionally wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffling.

“I feel like your personal lady’s maid, Miz Sunshine!” said Em, trying to keep things light. The boy was in a dismal mood and Em didn’t want her surprise to be completely ruined. Who knows how he would react when he finally saw Brian? He might run screaming from the room or faint dead away!

“Thanks, Em,” he whispered. 

Em dried him off with a rough towel. Justin’s skin was as soft and as smooth as a child’s, but he had a dick like a full-grown man, that was certain.

“Why, it’s no trouble at all, babydoll,” Em replied. “What do you think I spend most of my time doing down in the Hospital? When I’m not folding sheets and sweeping the floor, I’m bathing people and emptying their bedpans. I’d much rather be rinsing off a sweet little thing like you than some of those nasty old convicts down there!”

“What am I going to do, Em?” Justin asked quietly. “How am I going to survive in here for another year or even longer? I don’t think I can do it, Em. I don’t think I can stand it much longer.” Justin closed his eyes. “Sometimes the nights seem so long and I lay there in the dark, staring at the nothingness and thinking about what it would be like to just end everything. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel all this emptiness.”

Em’s heart skipped a beat. This was one thing Em had been afraid of. She’d even spoken to Father Bob about her fear for Justin. Suicide wasn’t uncommon in prison, especially among younger inmates who had lost all hope. And especially among those who had been sexually assaulted and believed that they were forever marked as victims. 

Not long after Em had come into Stanton a young punk on the second tier had thrown himself down the stairwell and broken his neck after his jock started trading his ass for cigarettes and favors. Em had just begun working in the Hospital when they brought the kid in. He was already dead. Em couldn’t forget the weird angle of his neck or the way his eyes were fixed and staring. Em had seen people die before, but they were old, like her grandmother. But this boy was only 20. Almost the same age as Justin.

Em got out clean underwear and a fresh pair of workpants and Justin put the clothes on slowly and mechanically. It didn’t really matter if he got dressed or not, Justin thought. It didn’t really matter what he did. Lee was right. Brian would never return to the Quad and hoping that he would, dreaming that he would, would never make it true. 

Soon another jocker would step up and claim him. A few had already been sniffing around, just as they had when Justin first entered the tier. They let Justin know, in no uncertain terms, that they were interested, and Justin understood that he would eventually have to make a choice or else be fair game to any jock who wanted a piece of him. Lee and Stormy were punks, but even they had been able to break down the defeated Justin’s resistance with a little weed and some Quaaludes. Yes, Emmett was watching out for him, and also the Juice Pig and Michelle, but even they couldn’t fight the inevitable.

Justin thought about Brian whoring for the low-riders. And Lee having to service all the guys Big Chuck owed money to. Or the other punks Justin saw with bruises on their faces and bodies. He smiled grimly, thinking of his own mother telling him that Brian was a bad influence on him. That he was better off without Brian in his cell and in his bed. His mom had no fucking clue! No idea what had happened to him in this prison. And what would happen in the future to a small, blond white boy in a prison full of strong, horny men. With no protector. With no Brian.

“You come along with me, honey,” said Em, taking Justin by the hand and ushering him out of the cell.

“Where are we going?” Justin asked listlessly. Not that he cared very much. He was coming down off the pot and ’ludes and that always left him even more depressed than he was before he took the drugs. They always worked on him that way. Justin could see how guys got into a cycle of taking shit and then needing to take more to get themselves out of the funk the drugs put them into. 

“I need you to help me down in the Hospital, babydoll,” said Em, smugly.

“I thought you were off duty now?”

“I am, but... but....” Em thought quickly. “Dr. Caputo wants me to get Barbie to make some new curtains for the ward. And I need someone to help me with the measuring.”

Justin frowned. Em invaded the South Wing and dragged him away from Lee and Stormy to help him measure for some fucking curtains? That was a pretty sorry excuse for butting into his life! But Emmett was a nosy queen and that’s what nosy queens did – they butted into your life.

“Why can’t Michelle do this, Em? I’d rather just lie down on my bunk.” Justin swallowed. His throat felt dry after smoking that harsh weed and his head was fuzzy. “It’s almost time for 4:00 head count anyway. I just want to go to sleep.”

“You come with me, mister!” Em ordered. “No excuses!” Em stepped up her pace, but Justin kept lagging behind. “Will you hurry UP?”

“Can’t we do this some other time?” Justin was getting tired of Emmy’s bossy ways. She was worse than his fucking mother with all her badgering!

Em pulled the boy down the corridor and pushed him through the door into the Western Wing of the Quad. The doors of the main ward were open wide. Em saw Andre, the nurse from the county hospital, talking to the ambulance drivers who were going to take him back.

“I thought your shift was over, honey?” said Andre when he saw Emmy coming down the hall. And the tall queen had a pretty blond boy in tow.

“It is,” Em said shortly. “I’m just bringing my friend down to help me with something in the ward.” Em gave Andre a warning glance. “This is Justin.”

“Justin!” the black nurse exclaimed, eyes shining. “Do tell, darling? What a pretty name that is! I’m Andre. I’m just passing through your fine establishment.”

“Yeah, hi,” answered Justin, sullenly. He yawned. The last thing he wanted to do was stand around while Em and this strange queen dished hospital dirt.

“No time for chitchat. We have some, um, windows to measure,” Em said. 

“Windows, hm?” Andre replied. “In that little room off the ward?”

“That’s the place. So you see why we are in such a big hurry.” Em guided Justin into the ward. “So bye-bye for now!”

“Bye-bye to you, too!” called Andre. He watched as the pair walked towards the small room where Andre’s beautiful and sad patient had been stowed. That boy was a beauty, too. They both wouldn’t be sad for much longer, Andre thought. He laughed to himself and walked out to the ambulance for the ride back to County General.

“Hurry, babydoll!” said Em, stopping next to the annex and pointed to the door. “You go in there and wait while I... I get the tape measure. Okay, hon?”

Justin sighed. This was taking forever. “Okay, Em.” 

He pushed open the door of the little room and paused. There was a patient inside, a man huddled under a sheet and hooked up to an IV. Justin hadn’t expected anyone to be in the annex. If someone was in there it was because they were very sick and needed to be apart from the noise and bustle of the main ward. 

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to bother you,” Justin said, starting to back out.

The patient in the bed turned his head. “Justin!” Brian whispered.

Justin blinked and felt his throat choke up. “Brian!” he cried. “Brian!”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreaming.

Chapter 24

 

“I was wondering when you were going to show up, Sunshine,” said Brian, lifting his head weakly.

“Brian!” Justin cried as he threw his arms around Brian’s neck and hung on as if his life depended on it. Which it did, he realized with a start.

Brian gasped as the boy pressed against his wound, oblivious to anything except his need to touch Brian.

“Be careful there, honey,” said Em, gently. She shifted Justin over slightly so he wouldn’t be leaning on the dressing that covered Brian’s left side.

“Oh, my God! I’m sorry!” said Justin. “Brian! Did I hurt you?” He’d only been with Brian for a minute and he’d already fucked up!

“No, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt a bit,” Brian lied. He shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable.

“Why don’t you go around to the other side, babydoll?” Em suggested. “That way you won’t bump the dressing or the IV.”

“Sure,” Justin agreed. He scooted over to the right side of the bed. 

Brian put his right arm out gingerly and wrapped it around the boy, pulling him down close to his face. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“They said you weren’t going to come back! That you were NEVER coming back!” Justin whispered.

“Where else would I go? Nobody would take me,” Brian breathed. “They didn’t even want me at that other hospital. And what prison besides Stanton would put up with me? So they had to send me back here.”

“What’s going on here, Honeycutt?” 

Dr. Caputo was standing in the doorway.

“Just getting our new patient settled in, Dr. C.,” said Em.

“Didn’t you go off duty over an hour ago?” the doctor sighed. Emmett had obviously been orchestrating this little reunion between and Kinney and kid. And the kid was plastered against the older inmate, probably not to be displaced any time soon. Well, it could be worse, thought Dr. Caputo. Kinney could be dead and the kid could be strapped down in the Psych Ward. At least now they were both on the road to recovery.

“I was just doing some clean up work around here, Dr. C.,” Em returned. 

“Clean up, huh? It’s only a few minutes until 4:00 head count, so you better hike back up to your tier before you get written up.” Dr. Caputo looked at Emmett and then glanced at the kid.

“Justin, honey, we’d better go back up now,” said Em, touching Justin’s arm.

“No! I can’t go now!” the boy protested, shaking Emmett off.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble, Sunshine. You better leave now,” said Brian. He lifted his head again, but it was a struggle. He felt as if all the strength had been drained out of him. The ride over from County General and the emotion of seeing Justin again had exhausted him totally.

Dr. Caputo gestured for Em to leave the room with him. They both walked over to the ward desk and the doctor shuffled through some forms. He filled one out swiftly and signed it.

“Here,” he said, handing the form to Emmett. “Give this to the C.O. on duty on the third tier. “Tell him the kid is in the ward for sick call. That’s so they don’t write him up.”

Em clutched the form. Dr. C. was a real doll! “Thank you so much, Dr. C.! This means a lot!”

“I only want my patients to get better,” Rich Caputo replied. “Both Kinney and the kid have been through hell and if this helps them to get back to normal, then it’s no skin off my ass. Now get back up to your tier!”

The doctor stopped in the door of the annex. “Taylor, you’re on sick call for tonight so you don’t have to go back up on the tier. But it’s for tonight only. Tomorrow I want you to get back where you belong. You read me?”

Justin nodded. “I read you, Doc,” he answered. “And thanks.”

“And kid – whatever you do, don’t knock that line out of his arm. He’s been jabbed so many times that it’s getting hard to find a good vein,” the doctor said. And he closed the door of the annex and went back to his office. 

“I guess that means you can pull up a chair and stay a while,” Brian smiled.

“Fuck the chair!” said Justin. He kicked off his sneakers and climbed up onto the narrow bed, trying not to jar his lover too much. Brian lifted the sheet and Justin slipped underneath, snuggling up against him.

But Brian felt so thin. His muscular arms looked wasted and weak and there were dark circles under his greenish-gold eyes. And his skin was warm and dry to the touch, like brittle paper. But Brian was alive. That was the only thing that mattered. Alive.

“I kept dreaming that you were speaking to me, Brian,” Justin sighed. “I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what I thought. Sometimes I was awake when I heard you. Your voice was so clear in my head. Like you were right inside of me.”

Brian blinked. “What did I say to you?”

“That you were coming back here. That you were going to take me away with you to a beautiful place....”

“A valley. A green valley surrounded by mountains. And the golden horse, running,” Brian said.

Justin raised his head and stared at Brian’s face. “That’s the place. The same one you talked about when... when I was in here after I got attacked. Emmett kept telling me that I was imagining it, but it felt so real. And that’s how I knew that you were alive, even when everyone was saying you were dead. I KNEW that you weren’t.”

“I was dreaming of that place, too, Justin,” Brian replied. “And I was almost there. I was right on the edge of that beautiful place. But I was there alone. So I turned around and came back. That’s what I was dreaming. What I’ve been trying to remember. Maybe we were thinking of that same place, at the same time. Maybe that’s possible.” He ran his fingers through Justin’s golden hair. It was the same color as the beautiful horse in his dream. Gold and white, like the boy’s pale skin.

“I believe it,” Justin insisted. “I believe it’s possible. But I thought you’d abandoned me. That you’d forgotten all about me. I... I....” Justin couldn’t continue. He couldn’t tell Brian how he’d lost faith. How he’d given himself up to despair and tried to drown his pain in drugs and sex.

“I didn’t forget, Justin,” Brian whispered. He closed his eyes. He was so tired. “But there was no way I could get away. Except in my head. That was my only escape. I never thought I’d be grateful to come back to Stanton, but I am. I feel like I’m finally home. That I’m finally back where I belong.”

“And I’m where I belong, too,” Justin agreed. “At least for now. But we won’t be here forever. I know we won’t. This isn’t the end, Brian. It’s only the beginning.”

“I’m not going to think about that,” Brian murmured into Justin’s hair. “I’m only going to think about right now. And I won’t ask for anything beyond that.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep in the dream.

Chapter 25

 

Justin was deep in a dream.

He was looking out at the ocean. He’d never actually seen the ocean, but he knew that’s what it was.

The water was blue-green and wild, crashing on the rocks. Curling around them and then receding. Washing back and forth, back and forth, the sound of the surf inexorable.

Justin felt that he was rocking, too. Like he was cradled in safety. In love.

He ran down onto a tiny patch of sand among the rocks. Brian was standing there. He was wearing blue jeans and his shirt was off. He turned and smiled at Justin. He held out his hand.

Brian was deep in a dream.

They were driving down a highway. It was not a new car, but it was theirs. 

Justin sat in the passenger seat, a map unfolded on his lap.

The windows were rolled down. It was summer.

They were heading into a range of soft blue mountains. The road followed the line of the mountain ridges. You could look down into the deep green valleys and then beyond to the next ridge.

Justin turned the radio on, but all that came out was the sound of the ocean, of the surf, until it filled the car like high tide.

Brian turned and smiled at Justin.

He held out his hand.

Brian opened his eyes. 

He could hear the clock ticking on the wall next to the bed, but it was too dark to see what time it was.

His side ached and he shifted slightly.

Justin shifted with him, changing his own position. His hand was pressed against the middle of Brian’s chest. His head was under Brian’s right armpit. He was curled up against him tightly and securely, like a precious package.

Brian’s left hand was attached to the IV, so it was hard to maneuver it. But his right arm was free. It was also numb from being trapped under Justin’s sleeping body. Brian pulled it away slowly and gently. He clenched his hand and moved his fingers around to get the feeling back into it. Then he touched the boy’s hair in the darkness.

He remembered his dream.

Remembered driving in that car with the windows rolled down. Remembered the mountains. It reminded him of the visions he’d had when he was unconscious. Entering the valley, that beautiful place, ringed by mountains.

But this dream was different. It was more real. It wasn’t somewhere beyond the world. It was a place where you could go and actually return from. It wasn’t the ending of life, but the beginning.

Brian could actually feel the wind from the open window of the car in his hair. Then he realized that the window of the annex room was open and the May breeze was wafting in, blowing the old white curtains. 

Maybe this was a picture of their future? Or maybe it was from some other life, somewhere else. Dreams could seem so real when you were in the middle of them.

Maybe this was all a dream and he’d wake up back in County General, alone and in pain. Thirsty and unable to reach the cup. Pressing the button for the nurse who never came.

Brian closed his eyes.

Or maybe he would wake up 10 years in the future. Still in his cell on the third tier. In his bunk, alone. Realizing that he was constantly dreaming this same moment over and over again.

The last moment when he was happy.

Brian lifted his head and looked around. He heard one of the patients out in the ward coughing. The light on the Yard was angling in through the window, illuminating the bare wall, casting the shadow of the bars on it.

Justin sniffed in his sleep. 

He took off his shoes and ran across the small strip of sand. The water washed across his pale feet.

Brian chased him. Caught him. Spun him in his arms.

They both tumbled onto the warm sand. The cool spray of the water had dampened their hair.

Brian kissed him there. Kissed him softly, while he stroked Justin’s wild, golden hair.

Justin sighed in his sleep. 

It wasn’t a dream. He knew it wasn’t.

It was more real than reality. It was the truth.

That’s all that mattered.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Caputo observes.

Chapter 26 

May 1978

 

“Mr. Honeycutt?”

“Yes, Dr. C.?” 

Em was juggling a stack of clean bedpans that she was about to take over to the geriatric ward.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Dr. C. Ask away!” said Em, although she wished that the doc would hurry up with his questions. Because if she dropped the bedpans it would make a heck of a racket.

Dr. Rich Caputo turned and watched a slight, blond figure trot by with a special tray of food he had just brought over from the Chow Hall. The figure disappeared into the annex room off the main ward.

“I wasn’t aware that Mr. Kinney had hired a private-duty nurse,” Dr. Caputo said, raising an eyebrow.

Em grinned. “Oh, we take all the help we can get, Doc!” But then Em frowned when she how serious the doctor was. “You aren’t going to send Justin away, are you, Doc? Because he’s really no bother. Ask anyone around here. Justin is actually a big help!” 

Rich Caputo sighed. “He’s NOT assigned to Hospital duty, Honeycutt. He’s supposed to be going to classes. I know the boy wants to be down here with his cellmate as much as he can be, but it’s getting ridiculous! The kid is here when I arrive in the morning and he’s still here when I go off duty in the evening. And Dr. Gomez says he’s here during his shifts as well. Doesn’t Justin EVER go back up to his tier? How come he isn’t getting written up by the C.O.’s?”

“Oh, he’s always right there for head count, Dr. C. And he goes back up to the tier every night, right on schedule. Except when he’s on sick call.” Em swallowed and hoped that the doctor didn’t check to see just how often that was. Em had done more than a little forging of Dr. C.’s signature on the sick call slips. That could get Em into real trouble if the doctor decided to make an issue of it.

“Emmett!” Dr. Caputo said warningly.

“Come on, Doc! He’s going to all his classes. He really is! Just ask the teachers. Ask Miss Amy Carver. She’ll tell you. Justin sits in there with Brian and does his homework. And he helps all the orderlies at dinner time. And with the laundry, too!” Em took a deep breath. “And Brian IS improving. You said so yourself. Who else could get him up and walking around? And he’s not asking for so many pain pills now.”

“I suppose that the boy bringing him special food from the Chow Hall is part of Mr. Kinney’s recovery?” the doctor asked.

Em nodded. “You know that he was hardly eating anything, Doc. But Justin has a deal with the cooks to make special meals for him and then Justin brings them over. You have to admit that Brian’s gaining weight.” Em finally set down the stack of bedpans on a nearby cart. They were surprising heavy, even when empty. “And Justin has been better, too. He isn’t having those weird conversations with himself anymore.” 

“That’s true,” Dr. Caputo conceded. Even the warden had asked the doctor if the boy was still talking about hearing voices in his head.

And, thought Em, Justin isn’t hanging out with those bad-news punks all day, getting high and fucking around. Stormy and Lee were still in class with Justin, but whenever they saw Em coming those two kids made themselves scarce. Em had threatened to tell Ben, the Juice Pig, about what the punks had been up to. Ben was very protective of Justin and he’d be pissed if he knew that they had been taking advantage of the boy in Brian’s absence. The punks were more afraid of the Juice Pig than they were of their own jockers, so that made them back off Justin. 

Wesley had also been down in the Hospital Wing a lot recently, sitting with Justin in Brian’s little annex room and doing his homework along with his friend. Things seemed all patched up between those two boys.

Michelle also came down regularly, bringing comic books and food that her mother, Debbie, sent, as well as little odds and ends from the Canteen that she knew Brian liked. Since he couldn’t smoke in the Hospital, she also brought him gum, which Brian chewed almost around the clock. She brought soft drinks and collected Brian’s mail for him every day, too, so that he could read his ‘New Yorker’ and keep up a little bit with his Prisoners’ Legal Defense cases. Michelle and the other queens couldn’t do enough for Brian.

However, with Brian incapacitated, most of the legal work in the prison had come to a stand-still. The PLD tried to keep their litigations going, but without their inside liaison, forms didn’t get filled out, appeals didn’t get filed, and prisoners didn’t get advised of their rights or of the progress of their cases. Many of the inmates hadn’t realized before how much they depended on the legal services that Brian provided – that is, not until they lost them.

But Brian could only spend short periods of time reading and almost no time writing. It was too exhausting for him and Justin was like a pitbull when it came to Brian being over-tired. Sometimes Justin took the papers right out of his lover’s hands and carried them away if he saw that Brian was flagging or thought he was over-doing things.

Dr. Caputo ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I know this is a special circumstance, Emmett, but I think you boys are taking advantage of the situation. If I find out that you’re running some kind of scam down here, I’ll nail your balls to the wall personally. Capisce?”

“Yes, Dr. C., I capisce,” said Em, shuddering. Dr. Caputo was from a tough Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York, and Em didn’t doubt that the mild-mannered doctor was perfectly capable of nailing Em’s balls anywhere he saw fit. “But there’s no scam going on! I swear!”

“There better not be, Honeycutt,” said the doctor, darkly. “Now get those bedpans over to Nurse Johnson in geriatrics – pronto! You get me?”

“Yes, Doc, I get you,” said Em. “And thanks.” 

Dr. Caputo watched the tall, thin orderly hustle away with the bedpans. Then Rich Caputo headed for the annex room to see what was really up with his special patient.

The doctor had to admit that Kinney’s punk – with some help from Emmett and his pals – had transformed the dingy annex room. There were new curtains at the window and the gray walls were decorated with the boy’s imaginative drawings. A portable radio was playing an oldies station softly. And the bed was covered with a colorful afghan that some of the queens on Brian’s tier had made for themselves, but had generously donated to Brian’s recovery process. 

The pair were sitting side by side, Brian propped up in bed and Justin perched next to him, sharing the tray of food that the kid had brought from the Chow Hall. The meal looked decidedly better than what the rest of the ward was having. In fact, it looked better than what Dr. Caputo himself expected to get for his own dinner. He wasn’t sure how the kid managed it. First, he organized the birthday party, and now he was managing his cellmate’s recovery. Not bad wheeling and dealing for a punk kid.

“I see you gentlemen are already dining.”

Justin looked up. “Hey, Dr. Caputo! We’re just starting.”

“What’s on the menu today?” The doctor looked at the tray.

“Well,” said Justin. “In the Chow Hall they’re having Salisbury Steak and peas, but Brian doesn’t like Salisbury Steak and the peas they serve are mushy, so I had Tony make some chicken parmesan with Italian beans and fettuccini.” The boy took a bite. “It’s very good! Tony used to cook at a restaurant in New York City’s Little Italy.”

Dr. Caputo stared at the food. This really WAS better than the dinner he was going to have tonight. His wife, a lovely German-American woman, couldn’t make chicken parmesan to save her life! 

Brian was picking at the food, taking each mouthful slowly, but he WAS eating, Dr. Caputo noted. And he was off the IV completely now. That made for better mobility. Emmett had brought in another chair and a small table so that Brian could get out of bed and sit instead of just lying around all day. And the kid was the one who got him up and moving about. Justin also had him walking around the ward, tediously, but steadily. 

Kinney was in pain and often irritable, but he never snapped at the kid the way he sometimes did at the orderlies and nurses. And Justin was infinitely patient with him. Maybe Emmett was right and this was exactly what both of them required in order to heal correctly. Kinney needed someone who cared about him completely and the kid needed someone to focus his energy on other than his own problems. 

“You’re doing a great job, Justin,” said Dr. Caputo. And he watched the kid’s face light up as he smiled at his own personal ‘patient.’ 

And he watched Kinney’s face change, too. It was a fond expression, but also a sad one. Rich Caputo wished that he could get inside that head and see what this man was really thinking. If he still believed, after all that had happened to him and all that still lay before him, in the possibility of happiness.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new development.

Chapter 27

 

“Ron, I need to speak with you,” said Julie. “Right now.”

Ron was sitting at his desk, frowning over a stack of legal briefs and forms. He was swamped with work from Stanton Correctional, which he was trying to do on top of the other cases on which he was consulting for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. Stanton wasn’t the only prison in Western Pennsylvania that needed legal services, and besides the various county lock-ups that needed monitoring, cases pending, and following up on cases that had already been through the courts, Ron felt that he didn’t know whether he was coming or going half the time.

And then there was Brian. Ron had tried to get that asshole Horvath to okay a visit with his ‘client’ in the prison hospital, but the warden was stonewalling him at every turn. Even the threat of a few well-chosen candid snapshots of Horvath and a certain Mrs. Novotny released to some people on the Board of Prisons hadn’t had any impact.

“Go ahead and do it, Rosenblum,” Horvath had retorted, calling Ron’s bluff. “If they get rid of me and put in someone else, just see how far you get in working your ‘charms’ on a new warden. A warden who doesn’t know YOU and doesn’t know Kinney. You think you’ll get special favors from HIM? Like that Family Visit? If you play your cards right, I might slip it through quietly. But if you screw me over, you think some new warden is going to approve Conjugal Visits for two guys? Think again, Ronnie!”

And Ron did think again. Horvath was right. Yes, he was a cretin, but he was a known cretin. Horvath had done Ron favors in the past, but he didn’t like being pushed. So Ron had no choice but to back off – for now. As frustrating as that was.

“What’s up, Julie?”

“This.” The woman dropped a folder on his desk. Ron opened it. It was a report from an internal FBI source. Ron wasn’t sure how Julie got some of her information, but he was impressed with what she sometimes came up with. Ron had a feeling that she was fucking someone in or very close to the FBI. Good for her, he thought. Use what you have.

Ron scanned the top report and felt his gut clench as he read.

“Is this on the level?” he asked.

Julie nodded. “Completely.” Then she smiled. “This could impact your boy.”

“Impact him?” Ron cried. “It could mean a deal with the prosecutor! It could mean....” He stopped. Ron didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

Because the report was from an FBI informant about the movements of a certain Kirk Bradley, a.k.a. Russell Coe, a.k.a. Glenn FitzPatrick. One of the fugitive Penn State Bombers from 1968. The very bastard who had suckered Brian into their radical anti-war cell and then left him holding the bag after they torched that building. And left him serving a 20-year-to-life sentence. That bastard.

“How old is this report?” asked Ron. He could feel the cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

Julie sighed. “That’s the only thing. The information is a year old. However, it’s the first solid lead that there’s been in this case since those guys went underground in ’68. Apparently this Kirk Bradley was living under the name Russell Coe out in Portland, Oregon. He was married and his wife took the kids and split. She told someone she knew that her husband was on the lam and she was sick of moving around and living in fear.”

“Sounds like the ex-wife might be willing to give this guy up!” said Ron, excitedly.

“Maybe,” said Julie. “Except when they came to question her, she clammed up. And by that time Bradley or Coe or whoever he is had already taken off. He hasn’t been spotted since, but the Feds are keeping an eye on the wife and kids. You never know, Ron, he might try to see them again when he thinks the heat is off.”

“Are the Feds pursuing this lead? What have they done in the past year?”

Julie shrugged. “Not much, it seems. Former campus radicals aren’t high on their priority list.”

Ron stood up. “But they are fucking Number One on MY priority list! Especially THIS former campus radical! Shit!” Ron began pacing back and forth. “We need a good private investigator to get on this right away. The Feds aren’t going after this Kirk Bradley unless they get a fucking kick in the pants! So we are going to have to do it.”

“It’s going to cost some money, Ron,” Julie warned. “And even then there’s no guarantee that it will help Brian.”

“But it’s something,” said Ron. “That’s better than what we had before – which was bupkis! This is at least a lead. Proof that this bastard is still alive. And if he’s alive he can be found. And he WILL tell the truth about what happened – if I have to twist his dick off to get him to do it!”

Julie laughed. “Why Ron! You sweet talker, you!”

But Ron wasn’t smiling. “If it will get Brian out of Stanton I’ll do anything, Julie. And I’m not kidding.” He stared directly at the woman in a way that gave her a chill. “Anything. Never forget that. Now start looking into an investigator. And I want one with no scruples whatsoever. One who will take no prisoners – literally.”

“If you say so, Ron,” said Julie, backing out of the room.

She left Ron Rosenblum sitting at his desk, staring intently at the folder, his face set and determined. And his resolute mind working on how he was going to get Brian out of prison – finally.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting Day again.

Chapter 28

June 1978

 

“Hey, Mom,” said Justin, quietly. He sat down across from his mother in the Visitors’ Galley.

“Hello, Justin,” Jennifer replied tentatively. She reached her hand out over the table to take her son’s, but he sat back with his arms crossed and his face blank. “Justin, promise me that you aren’t going to run away from me today.”

Justin sighed. “I won’t... if YOU promise not to say anything stupid about Brian.”

Jennifer swallowed. Ron had warned her that antagonizing her son about his cellmate would only make him even more defensive, especially since the man had been wounded defending him. And now Brian was back in Stanton. And Justin was more obsessed with him than ever before.

“I promise, darling,” she said. “So, how is Brian? Is he... feeling better?”

“He’s healing, Mom,” Justin answered. “But it will take a long time before he’s back to normal. It isn’t like he had the flu or something. Brian was stabbed! He was almost killed, Mom!”

“Yes, I know, honey,” said Jennifer. “And I’m sorry.”

“Are you, Mom?” Justin asked. “Are you really sorry?”

“Of course I am! I... I know that this... this Brian is important to you.” Jennifer paused, trying to think of what exactly to say. “I know that you... you love him.” Jennifer could barely get the word out.

“At least you acknowledge that fact,” Justin replied. Justin closed his eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to admit that I’m gay, Mom. And it’s even harder for you to understand my relationship with Brian. You think it has to do with me being in prison and being traumatized or some shit like that. But it’s a lot more, Mom. Even if I were out of the Quad and back home and going to the Institute of Fine Art like I had originally planned, I would still be gay. I’ve always been gay. And it has nothing to do with anything you did or Dad did or anybody did! It’s the way I am!”

“I know that, honey,” said Jennifer, trying to steady her voice. “It’s only that... that everything has happened so quickly, Justin! Your arrest and then the trial. And then... you in prison. It’s put a strain on me and on the whole family.”

“What about the slight strain on ME, Mom?” Justin said, his voice on edge. “What about THAT? What about the... the things that have happened to me in here? What about ME seeing Brian almost killed right in front of me? I think that’s a lot more important that the ‘strain’ you guys feel when people gossip about you at the country club.”

“I don’t mean to downplay what you’ve gone through, Justin! I don’t mean to do that at all!” Jennifer looked down at her hands. She was twisting her wedding ring back and forth. “Justin, I want you to hear it from me first... but your father and I are getting a divorce.”

Justin held his breath. He’d been afraid of this. He had watched his parents turn against each other more and more in the months since his arrest. And he could only imagine what his father had to say about his homosexuality. That he hated what Justin was. The father who refused to come and visit him. Who refused even to speak with him on the phone. His father hated him now. Hated the fag. Justin felt it. But he couldn’t hate his dad. He just couldn’t. And he couldn’t hate his mom, either, no matter how stupid she acted. No matter how much she didn’t understand him. Or his relationship with Brian.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” said Justin, looking away. “It’s all my fault. This never would have happened if I hadn’t been so fucking stupid! If I hadn’t let myself get arrested.” Justin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And if I wasn’t a queer. That’s the main thing, isn’t it, Mom?” He looked his mother in the eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Jennifer cringed. “N..No, honey. That isn’t the reason. It isn’t your fault! It isn’t about you!”

“But it IS! I know it is!” Justin sniffed. “Don’t try to make me feel better. I know Dad hates me. And now I’ve fucked things up between the two of you. I’ve ruined our family!”

“No!” said Jennifer, firmly. “You haven’t! Look at me, Justin! Please?”

Justin shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry!”

Jennifer didn’t know what to say to her son. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not about her and Ron. She just couldn’t! But she also couldn’t let Justin think that he was to blame to the bitter rift between her and Craig. She thought about the confrontations and the accusations. The claims and counter-claims traded by their lawyers. It was an ugly situation and getting uglier. Craig still refused to move out of the house and it was like a war zone there.

And then there was Ron. He was so busy lately. So many cases taking up so much of his time. Even when they were together he was preoccupied. That was about Brian, too. About Brian’s case. Jennifer was always asking about Justin’s case, but things were at a stand-still with it. It was that damn prosecutor, Jim Stockwell. He was throwing up roadblocks right and left. He didn’t want any of his convictions overturned when he was running for the Republican mayoral nomination as a strict law-and-order candidate. Ron had reminded Jen how that wouldn’t look good to Stockwell’s conservative constituency. It was so frustrating! And so unfair!

“Justin, please don’t blame yourself for this!” Jennifer begged. “It isn’t about you or anything you’ve done. It’s about your father and me. About how we... we can’t get along anymore.”

Justin shook his head. “Is it about you fucking Brian’s old cellmate? Is it about you and Ron? I would think that Dad wouldn’t be too happy about that, either.”

Jennifer felt herself trembling. “Ron and I are going to be married, honey. We are – as soon as he can divorce his wife.”

Justin stared at her – and then he laughed. “Divorce his wife? Did Ron tell you that, Mom? Did he?” Justin’s face was incredulous.

“Well....” Jennifer hesitated. They hadn’t discussed it fully, but Ron had alluded to their future. To what would happen once she was free. About how they would be together then. “Yes, we’ve talked about it.”

“I don’t believe you, Mom,” said Justin, coolly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but Ron is lying if he told you that.” Justin pressed his full lips together, wondering at his mother’s gullibility. “The truth is that the only way in hell he’ll ever divorce his wife is if they made it legal for a guy to marry another guy!”

“Justin!” cried Jennifer. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“No, Mom,” Justin replied. “Don’t YOU be ridiculous! Because if they made marriage for queers legal tomorrow in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Ron would divorce his wife so fast her head would spin. And then he’d be at the door of Stanton with flowers and a ring – for Brian! Yes, Mom! That’s who Ron really wants! Not YOU!”

“Stop saying those things, Justin! That isn’t the truth!” Jennifer insisted. But she was beginning to sweat. It was hot and stuffy in the Visitors’ Gallery. She was feeling faint in the heat.

“But it IS true, Mom,” said Justin. His face was once again a blank. “The only problem with Ron’s perfect little scenario is that if Ron showed up with those flowers and that ring and a romantic proposal, Brian would laugh in his face! Because he loves ME! That’s the truth, Mom! Deal with it.”

Jennifer sat for a few minutes, her heart pounding and the sweat pouring down the back of her neck. She looked at Justin’s face and he looked like a stranger. Not her beautiful, innocent boy, but a strange man whose mind she didn’t understand. And maybe she never would understand.

“So,” Jennifer continued, her voice shaking. “How are your classes, honey?”


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 

Justin stomped into the main ward and slammed down a tin of chocolate chip cookies onto the desk.

“Anyone who wants these can have them!” he stated. 

Em poked his head out of the annex room. “We aren’t using our ‘inside voice’ today, are we?” said Em sharply.

Justin paused. “Sorry, Em.” He looked around at the men in the ward. Two were quietly playing cards, but the others were lying in their beds listlessly. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to be so loud.” 

Justin picked up the tin and walked around to each bed, offering the cookies to the sick men. Then he carried the remainder into the annex.

“Jesus, that must have been some great visit with your mom,” Brian commented. He was out of bed and sitting on the chair, reading his newest copy of ‘The New Yorker.’

Justin handed Brian the cookie tin and Brian took it, raising an eyebrow. He reached in and tried one of the cookies. Then he offered one to Em.

“A little dry,” said Em. “But they have a lot of chips in them!”

“Jane’s cookies are always a little dry. They have been for the past 9 years,” said Brian. “I told Ron to get her to put a little more shortening in them, but I guess she’s too set in her ways.”

“How do you know these are from Ron?” asked Justin.

Brian laughed. “Who else? Your mother has never brought you cookies before. Does she even make cookies? Besides, these are the same tins that Jane has always used.” Brian rummaged through the tin. “No peanut butter? You’d think we’d get a little variation.” 

“My Great-Aunt Lula used to have a good recipe for oatmeal cookies!” exclaimed Em.

“There you go!” said Brian. “Write it down and we’ll send it along to them. Maybe Ron and Jane and your mom can all get together and make enough cookies for the whole tier for the next Visiting Day.”

Justin sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. “I’m glad you guys think this is so fucking amusing!” He leaned back against the pillow and turned his face away.

Brian threw Emmett a pointed look and Em backed out of the annex quietly, shutting the door. He took the tin of cookies with him.

Brian put down his magazine and stood up slowly. The muscles in his stomach and left side were still weak and making sudden movements could be painful. Brian made a grunting sound as he got to his feet, causing Justin to sit up.

“Let me help you!” he said, slipping off the bed.

“I can do it!” Brian insisted. “I’m not a fucking old woman!”

“You want to get back into bed?” asked Justin.

“I guess so,” Brian mumbled. “Fuck.” 

He wanted to get out of that room, out of the ward, so very badly. He could see the sun shining outside and feel the breeze coming in through the window. He wanted to run around the track about a hundred times and forget everything as the wind blew his hair back and his feet felt the crunch of the gravel. But the reality was that Brian could barely inch his way across the ward without the assistance of Justin and Emmett. 

Dr. Caputo kept telling Brian what great progress he was making, but it didn’t feel like progress. Instead, it felt like he would never be the same again. That he was like an old man before his time, doomed to sit in one spot and rot until he actually was old. Even his arms had lost their tone and Brian knew from the looking in the bathroom mirror while shaving that his face was thin and drawn.

Justin pulled back the sheet and eased Brian into the bed. It was hot in the Hospital Wing and Brian was wearing his gray boxers and a plain tee shirt. Justin noticed how thin his legs looked. He’d have to ask Ben if there were some weights that would be good for Brian to use to help regain his muscles. Ben knew all about that sort of thing and Dr. Caputo would probably okay it. In a regular hospital they would have a physical therapist work with Brian every day until his strength came back, but Stanton didn’t have the money for such luxuries for inmates. A prisoner had to make due with whatever was there – the bed, the chair, Justin’s shoulder for Brian to lean on.

“After dinner do you want to sit outside?” Justin suggested. There was a small outside area off the Hospital Wing that Em and the other orderlies and nurses referred to as the ‘Garden.’ It was a square of shriveled grass surrounded by a chain-link fence where the patients could sit in the sun or the shade – depending on the time of day – and get some air away from the noise of the main Yard. Dr. Caputo had actually brought a geranium in an old clay pot and set it a corner there, saying that a garden needed at least one flower. Emmett watered the flower carefully every morning, but it still looked slightly dusty.

“Sure,” said Brian. “I think I can make it out there.” Brian began calculating how much energy it would take for him to maneuver himself from the annex room to the Garden.

Justin hesitated. “I was thinking that I could push you – in the chair.”

Brian winced. He hated being moved around in the wheelchair. “I can walk,” he stated flatly.

“But Brian....”

“Listen, Sunshine, if I can’t walk outside 10 steps, then how am I ever going to be able to walk up to the tier?” said Brian, bleakly. “I’ll be stuck in here for the rest of my term. You might as well just wheel me over, dump me in the geriatric ward, and fucking forget about me there.”

“It’s only that I don’t want you to over-do it, Brian!” Justin countered. He stared at his lover with concern. Some days it seemed that the idleness of the Hospital and the lack of physical activity was making Brian more and more depressed. Justin climbed up next to Brian on the narrow bed and leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder. “I’ll help you walk out to the Garden. You’re right – you don’t need a wheelchair.”

“Damn straight I don’t need it!” Brian snapped. But then he sighed and put his arm around Justin, stroking his hair. “I only want to get back up on the tier. And back to the office. Back to my old routine.”

“I know,” Justin whispered. 

Brian was only able to do a small amount of his legal work and the cases were backing up. Julie, the woman from the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, had been sending one of their paralegals twice a week to try and clear some of the cases, but the guy could only stay for a few hours and he didn’t understand the inmates or their cases the way Brian did. Besides, the other prisoners didn’t trust some outsider who they didn’t know. Brian was one of them and they had faith in him, not some punk just out of college who acted like he was scared shitless just to be inside the Quad. 

“How does your side feel?” Justin asked. He knew that the wound still hurt Brian. Justin helped Em with changing the dressing every day, and the scar was still red and angry-looking. In the hot weather Brian’s sweat inflamed it and Justin knew that it often kept Brian from sleeping at night. Justin wasn’t allowed to sleep in the annex – he had to return to his tier for evening head count at 10:00 – but Justin always knew when Brian had had a bad night. His eyes were red and he ate less than usual. And his mood was much gloomier.

“Okay,” Brian lied. “How could I not be okay when I’m so well taken care of?”

“You’ll be back home before you know it!” Justin asserted.

Home, Justin thought. It was sad that for Brian his cell was the only home he had. His parents didn’t write or visit, so wherever he had lived before Brian had gone away to Penn State certainly wasn’t his home anymore. No, it was the East Wing, third tier, cell E-320. 

And that was Justin’s home now, too. Even if Justin got out tomorrow, his homophobic father wouldn’t let him go home. He didn’t want a fag ex-con son around the house. And his mom – what if she really DID marry Ron? Justin couldn’t see himself living with his mother and a new husband who was also his lover’s ex-boyfriend!

No, the only thing that would work was for Brian and him to find their own place. To live together. Justin thought about Brian’s manuscript in the hands of Amy Carver’s friend. And then with a publisher. It would be a huge bestseller! Brian would be exonerated and released! Then Justin would get paroled! They WOULD get their own place, just the two of them! Somewhere in the country, where it was green and cool. Justin could be an artist and Brian... Brian could do anything he wanted to! They’d both be free to decide their own Fates. They’d be free.

“What are you smiling about?” Brian asked, nudging Justin.

“Nothing,” Justin murmured. “I’m only thinking about something beautiful.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy Carver takes a call.

Chapter 30

 

“Amy?” said the voice on the phone.

 

“Will!” Amy Carver exclaimed. “I can’t talk very long. I’m getting ready to go over to Stanton to teach my class.”

“At the prison?” asked Will Foxe. “Good! That’s exactly what I wanted to speak with you about. Geoffrey Collins called me today from New York. He got your prisoner’s manuscript to Milt Kirchner.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Milton Kirchner, the editor at ‘The New Yorker’? Oh, Will! That’s fabulous news!” Amy knew that Kirchner had edited many of the most famous non-fiction pieces that had appeared in the magazine over the years, including works by Truman Capote, Norman Mailer, and John Hersey.

“Now, Geoff isn’t promising anything, but he told me that Kirchner is extremely interested in this manuscript. He also told Geoff that he thinks that with some work it could not only be publishable, but profitable. Geoff thinks it’s got all the elements to make it fly. It’s a true crime story and those are always big sellers. And it’s got the Vietnam and anti-war element, which gives it some political cache. And it’s got a lot of sex and sensational details about shit that goes on in prison. I mean, who knows about any of this stuff, Amy? I certainly didn’t!” Will paused. “Are you sure that what this Kinney has written is on the level? This stuff about male prostitution and drug dealing inside the prison and all of that?”

“Will, some of the other boys in my class have definitely confirmed that it goes on. Some of the men inside dress in women’s clothes – I’ve seen them! There’s a boy in my class who’s in for stealing, but he’s also done time for prostitution. And he wears make-up and lives with some macho convict! Even the boys who don’t look effeminate have big, butch boyfriends. It’s just a fact of life not only in Stanton, but in all of the prisons, Will. Brian’s manuscript is telling you exactly what happened to him. Justin assured me that it’s all true.”

“Who is Justin?” Will Foxe asked.

“Brian Kinney’s cellmate. The one who gave me the pages,” Amy explained. “And also Kinney’s punk – that means his boyfriend.”

“Yes, I remember that from reading the manuscript,” Will said. “Prison sounds like a real lively place. Kind of like Studio 54, but without Liza Minnelli.”

“That’s not very funny,” Amy returned. Will was a good writer, but he could be an asshole sometimes. He considered himself a real ladies’ man, so she had wondered how he would react to the graphic homosexual content in Brian’s manuscript.

“I’m sorry,” Will apologized. “It’s just that it’s hard to read a lot of those scenes, Amy. I mean, I don’t mind sex scenes, but that stuff with that motorcycle gang... it’s disgusting!”

“It’s true, Will,” Amy said. “It’s not gratuitous, it’s simply honest. If people are shocked by what happened to Brian, then they need to have their eyes opened. Because things like that are happening in prison every day. Happening to people I know personally. Some of them are practically children.” Amy thought about Justin and Wesley and the other boys in her class and she knew that Brian Kinney’s story was only the tip of the iceberg of sexual abuse and exploitation that happened at Stanton, not to mention other prisons far worse. 

Will sniffed. “If Milt Kirchner decides to publish excerpts of this manuscript, he may want to... um... edit some of the language and descriptions. ‘The New Yorker’ has certain standards and that kind of... of homosexual stuff isn’t exactly their usual fare.”

“Maybe that’s all the more reason why they SHOULD publish it, language and descriptions of so-called ‘disgusting’ acts notwithstanding,” Amy challenged. “Or is the famous Milt Kirchner afraid of upsetting his magazine’s ‘tasteful and sophisticated’ readership? ‘The New Yorker’ is supposed to be on the cutting edge, Will. They published Hersey’s ‘Hiroshima’ and Capote’s ‘In Cold Blood’ after all. Or have they lost their stomach these days?”

“Hell, no, Amy!” replied Will. “I’m just telling you my own feelings about some of the more difficult scenes. But that’s a decision that Milt Kirchner will have to make – IF he takes the manuscript. But you know that there are still a lot of legal issues involved. The facts will have to be checked and the manuscript vetted with the magazine’s legal department. They don’t want to get sued by anyone.”

“I understand that,” said Amy. “I’m sure that names can be changed if that’s necessary. As far as I know all the names in there now are real. Brian wasn’t thinking about getting sued when he wrote it. He was only telling the truth.”

“That’s something that will need to be dealt with, Amy. And what about a publisher? Is he thinking about a book deal? Does he have an agent?”

Amy sighed. “Will, I don’t think he’s thought about anything like that.” Amy didn’t want to tell Will that Brian didn’t even know anyone besides Justin had even read his manuscript. That was something that would need to be dealt with later. “At this moment our writer is in a prison hospital recovering from being stabbed by another inmate. An inmate who raped him years ago AND who had just raped his young cellmate.”

“Oh, right,” said Will. “Wait a minute! Amy, are you telling me that this guy who stabbed Kinney is the SAME guy in the manuscript? That biker? What was his name?”

“Cisco,” said Amy. “Yes, it’s the same man.”

“Jesus! Amy do you know how GREAT that is?”

“Great?” Amy couldn’t believe her ears. “Did you say ‘great’?”

“Yes! Don’t you see how it brings the whole thing full circle? What an ending! Does he have that part down yet?” 

“Brian hasn’t written any more, Will,” Amy sighed. “He hasn’t written an ending because there IS no ending for this story – yet. Brian has been in the hospital for weeks – remember? He almost died! And when he’s released from the hospital he still has at least another 10 years to go on his sentence. That’s why I want this story to be published. It may help him to get out of prison – or at least to get a new trial. Something. Anything! This man has been through hell and after reading his manuscript I’m convinced that he’s not guilty of most of the charges against him. And I think other people will agree, too. Maybe even a judge!”

“Yes, I see what you mean, Amy. But there are still a lot of issues that will need to seen to. Someone is going to have to meet with him about some of these things. Does Kinney have a lawyer?”

“Hold on a minute, Will,” said Amy. She was going to be late getting to Stanton for class, but this was important. She opened her briefcase and shuffled through it, looking for the folder with the information about Brian and his manuscript. “Yes,” said Amy, pulling out some contact numbers that Warden Horvath had given her. “I have it right here. Are you writing this down?”

“Of course, Amy. Shoot,” said Will Foxe.

“Here’s the lawyer’s name and number,” said Amy Carver. “He’s the one who handles anything having to do with Brian Kinney. His name is Ron Rosenblum.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian learns of Justin's betrayal.

Chapter 31 

 

June 1978

 

“Try to raise it a little slower,” said Ben. “You aren’t trying to prove a point, you’re only trying to build up your strength a little.”

“This is ridiculous,” huffed Brian in frustration. “This fucking little weight! I should be able to toss it around like a pencil and I can hardly lift it over my head!”

Ben had brought a couple of small hand weights down from his cell and he had Brian sitting on a blanket in the small garden area of the Hospital wing, trying to work his weak and aching muscles.

Brian had only been working with the weights for about 10 minutes, but he was already drenched in sweat. He hated for Ben – or anyone – to see just how weakened he actually was. In prison physical weakness could be deadly. Brian had labored in the gym long and hard over the years to build himself up from a scrawny and helpless punk to a lean, but toned and strong man. And now he was reduced to leaning on Justin to walk more than a few yards.

“You have to take it a little bit at a time. Remember what the Tao says – ‘The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,’” said Ben.

Brian stared at the Juice Pig. “The Tao?”

“Yeah,” replied Ben. “‘The Tao Te Ching.’ Ancient Chinese book of wisdom.”

“Yes, I know what it is,” said Brian. “You’re really getting into this Eastern religion stuff, aren’t you, Ben?”

Ben shrugged. “I’m learning.”

“You sound like a bad Charlie Chan movie when you quote that shit. You know that, don’t you?” Brian commented.

“I don't care,” Ben answered. “Everybody needs something to believe in. A way to live your life. It’s another philosophy. And it’s interesting. Helps me to focus.”

Brian snorted. “You writing to that guy at Carnegie Mellon? That professor? Is he sending you that stuff?”

“Yeah,” said Ben. “He’s sending me a lot of interesting books. And he writes me some letters that really make me think, Bri. It’s good to think about something other than what’s for dinner tonight.”

Brian laughed. “Your professor is no better than Andy’s pen pal women! He just wants to write to a hot inmate and fantasize about prison sex! I’ve seen it before.”

“I don’t care why he writes me,” Ben stated. “As long as he writes. And as long as he sends me more books. If he gets off on it, I don’t care.” 

“What does Michelle think about your little correspondence course?” Brian asked.

“Nothing,” said Ben. “Why should she? It has nothing to do with her. I don’t tell her not to read her comic books.” Ben grinned. “And I don’t see you throwing out those letters that your old cellmate sends you. What does Justin think about THAT?”

Brian looked away. “It has nothing to do with Justin. What Ron writes me is about business. It’s about cases and other legal matters that need to be discussed.”

“I’m sure,” said Ben.

“Just drop it, okay?” Brian bristled. He thought of the letter that was sitting by his bedside back in the annex room. A letter from Ron that had come that very day, just before Ben arrived to help him with his physical therapy. “Give me that other fucking weight. Let me try that one.”

“Try lifting one in each hand,” suggested Ben. He supported Brian’s back while the other man slowly raised the hand weights over his head.

Brian’s arms and wrists were shaking and a pain shot through his side. “Shit,” Brian whispered, letting his arms fall. His side was aching, the area of his wound throbbing like a heartbeat.

“I think that’s enough for now,” said Ben. “You did better than yesterday, when you couldn’t even lift one of those weights.”

“Yeah,” said Brian, bleakly. “I’m making great progress.”

“‘The journey of a thousand miles....’”

“I know. You have to begin with one step,” Brian sighed. “But why does that step have to be so fucking painful?”

Ben helped Brian to his feet. Brian had always been thin, but he’d also been solid, his arms and body hard and tough. But now he felt wasted, like a robust wind could knock him over. But Ben knew that it wasn’t the body that would make the difference in the end, but Brian’s will. And Ben knew that Brian’s will was still strong. It had to be, or he never would have lasted in prison this long.

Brian stretched very slowly. He felt so tight and feeble. He wondered when he’d ever feel right. When he’d feel like himself again. The summer was slipping away and he couldn’t even walk out to the Yard, let alone take a run. He shook himself. Self-pity was fucking useless.

A lot of things were fucking useless.

The problem was figuring out what exactly wasn’t useless. And wondering if anything ever made any difference in the long run.

Ben helped Brian towel off. Ben lingered over Brian’s chest and legs. Lingered a little too long for Brian’s comfort.

Ben was hot. Under different circumstances they would probably have gotten together, at least furtively. He knew that Ben wasn’t simply a jocker. Ben was gay, too, and had been before he was convicted. But no one else knew that, not even Michelle. It was dangerous for the other jocks to know that. Brian and Ben had discussed it and Brian suggested that Ben keep his mouth shut about it for his own protection. Ben was a big, strong guy with a lot of power in the East Wing, but you never knew how the men might turn on him if they knew he was a real faggot.

It was different for Brian. He’d never been anything but a fag and a punk. The men accepted that because they respected Brian’s survival skills and courage and because they needed his legal expertise. But for Ben, whose main strength in the Quad was his overt masculinity, it could be a disaster if everyone knew that he sucked cock.

Ben picked up his weights and then helped Brian make his way back to the annex room.

“You want to get back into bed?”

Brian shook his head. “No, I think I’ll wash up and then sit in the chair for a while. I’m sick of that goddamn bed.”

Ben glanced at the wall clock. “Justin should be back from his class soon. This is a new class he’s taking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sociology. It’s supposed to help inmates understand the social forces that created a culture of criminality in the United States.” Brian smiled. “That’s from the syllabus the professor gave Justin. He sounds like a pretentious prick.”

“Justin should eat that stuff up,” said Ben. “He’s a smart kid.”

“He is,” Brian agreed. “Sometimes he’s too smart for his own good.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bri,” said Ben before he left. “Don’t over-do things. Remember – ‘Hard and rigid will be broken, but soft and yielding will prevail.’” 

“Thanks for the advice, Charlie Chan,” Brian replied.

When Ben was gone, Brian picked up the letter from Ron and read it again. His manuscript. Justin had taken it – stolen it – and given it to that woman, even after Brian told him not to do it. All his private feelings. His words. His life. All the humiliations he’d lived through. All the pain and fear. Strangers were reading those words. Strangers were looking into his guts, into his soul. Or what was left of his soul. And there was nothing that he could do about it.

How could Justin do it to him? How could he betray him like that? All Brian had ever wanted to do was hide himself away and now he was open and raw. He didn’t know which wound was more severe, the one from Cisco’s shank, which was given in hate, or the one from Justin’s actions, which was given in love. Or what Justin thought was love.

Brian swallowed and smoothed the letter under his fingers.

He waited for Justin to return from his class.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together.

Chapter 32

 

When Justin came into the ward he was whistling.

He enjoyed the Sociology class. Some of the men in the class were older, not just punks trying to get credits for their High School Equivalency, but men working on college degrees. A few of them were extremely well-read and they challenged the professor on some of his pronouncements and on things stated in the texts assigned, especially on issues of crime and justice.

Justin wished that Brian was taking the course with him, wished he was well enough to take it. With his legal background, Justin was certain that Brian would have a lot to add to the discussion.

It was a beautiful June day. Ben was supposed to come over and help Brian with his physical therapy again. They’d just begun that process. Dr. Caputo had okayed it, telling Brian that his wound was healed enough so that it was unlikely to break open or drain from a little physical activity. 

Maybe later Brian would even try to walk out into the Yard. Justin could hold him up on one side and either Em or Ben could stand on his other side. Justin knew that Brian didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable he was, but all the men knew he’d been wounded. They understood what had happened to him. It wasn’t weak to show them the consequences of that skirmish on the Yard. Brian wasn’t soft – he was brave! He’d stood up for his cellmate, for his punk! He’d stood up for what belonged to him and all the men could respect that.

“I’m not leaving here until I can walk out on my own,” Brian had stated firmly. “Not until I can walk out on the Yard or climb up to the tier without having to lean on a punk or a queen to do it!”

Justin understood Brian’s pride on that point, but he thought it was misguided. No one was more admired in the East Wing for what he’d done than Brian. And even in the tougher South Wing, the men were glad to see the low-riders broken up and dispersed.

Even Baraka had stopped by the Hospital to give Brian a book on Malcolm X, so, he said, “You can understand the struggle.”

Brian had smiled and taken the book. “I’ve read this already – a couple of times,” he said.

“Then we’ll talk about it – when you feel better,” the leader of the Bros had answered.

It was quiet in the ward. Em was off duty and a lot of the patients were dozing in the afternoon heat.

Justin walked into the annex room and Brian was sitting in the wooden chair next to the bed.

“How was your session with Ben? Did you use the weights?”

“Yes,” said Brian, shortly.

“What’s the matter?” said Justin, with concern. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

Brian didn’t reply. He held out a piece of paper. A letter.

“What’s that?” Justin frowned.

“It’s from Ron,” said Brian. “Read it.”

Justin didn’t want to read anything from Ron. Anything Ron had to say to Brian was bound to be trouble. No wonder he was in a bad mood!

“No,” said Justin, taking a step backwards.

“Read it!” Brian demanded. There was anger in his voice. Anger and hurt.

Justin took the letter. He began reading and, as he read, Justin could feel the excitement rising in him.

“Brian!” he cried. “This is wonderful! This is exactly what I hoped would happen! They want to publish your stuff in ‘The New Yorker’! And Ron’s contacted an agent! It’s going to be a book!” He looked at Brian with pride. “I KNEW it was good! I told Miss Carver that it was good! That your story was true! This means that you’re going to get out! I know you will! I KNOW it!”

Then Justin saw the look on Brian’s face. A grim, haunted look.

“Brian – what’s wrong?”

“You gave that woman my pages. My private, personal thoughts,” he said quietly. “Things I’ve never even said aloud to another person. Things I couldn’t say to anyone. That’s why I wrote them down. To get them out of my head. To get them out of my gut, where they were killing me.” Brian took a deep breath. “I started writing that journal a few years ago when I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought about killing myself. That’s all I thought about. I didn’t see any hope for myself. All I saw was year after year of being in the Quad. I tried taking classes. Working at the Law Library. Pretending that I wasn’t all fucked up inside. But I WAS fucked up inside. And I didn’t see an end to it.”

“But Brian....”

“No, I’m talking right now,” said Brian. “I want you to hear the reason I wrote those pages. Why I did it. And why I let you read them. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was feeling. Not even Ron. I tried to talk to the psychologist, but he only wanted to hear the gory details. He was a fucking voyeur and I could tell he was getting off on what I was telling him, so I couldn’t go back there. I even tried the priest. Not Father Bob, but the guy before him. And all he wanted me to do was ‘repent of my sins.’ He looked at me and saw a prison whore. He knew that I was Ron’s punk and that I’d been worse than that. All he could offer was his fucking religion! Just like my goddamn mother! I was a sinner and that was that. I was going to Hell. And I thought, ‘Well, haven’t I already BEEN in Hell? How much worse could the real place be?’ So I bought some pills from some guy in the South Wing and every night I sat and looked at them, trying to work up enough courage to take them.”

Brian stopped for a minute and looked down at his hands in his lap. He couldn’t look up into Justin’s eyes.

“But Ron knew that something wasn’t right. He was watching me. And he found the fucking pills and flushed them down the toilet. Then he gave me a good, hard slap to wake me the fuck up. He told me that if I didn’t trust anyone enough to tell what was bothering me, then I should tell myself. And he sat me down in the Law Library for an hour every day and I wrote. I wrote and then I put the pages into the file cabinet. I knew that he was reading what I wrote, but we never talked about it.”

“But Brian! What was the point of writing everything down if not to HELP yourself?” Justin asserted. “This might get you out of here! Having people know what happened to you! Having them know the truth! That’s what will happen when your manuscript is published! It could get you a new trial! People will SEE that you’re innocent!”

“No, Justin!” said Brian, standing up slowly and painfully. “They’ll see some kind of fucking freak! Something that isn’t really a man! Do you think people will stop to think about what it’s really like in prison? What you have to do to survive? No! They’ll see that someone they already despised – me! – was a fucking degenerate all along and only proved it once he got into the joint! THAT is what they’ll see! You think they’ll want to free such a creature? Turn him loose on decent society? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Brian! That isn’t so!” said Justin, desperately. “They’ll see someone who had an injustice done to him. Someone who was hurt and bloodied, but who wasn’t broken. Someone who’s respected. Someone who is... brave. That’s what they’ll see!”

Brian limped to the window and stared out. There were a lot of men on the Yard, in the sun. 

“They’ll see something repellant. They won’t see ME – they’ll see IT. You don’t understand, Justin. You think that people will read what happened to me and have their eyes opened to the truth. But what they’ll really see is what they want to see and always have seen. A criminal. Even my own fucking parents don’t believe in me, so why should a bunch of strangers?” Brian turned and looked at Justin. “I only showed it to you in the first place so you’d know that bad things had happened to me, too, and that I understood what you were going through. So you wouldn’t feel alone. I told you not to give that woman my manuscript, but you lied to me and did it anyway! I know you think you were doing the right thing, but... but I can’t trust you anymore, Justin. I can’t trust you ever again.”

“NO! Don’t say that!” Justin crossed the room and put his arms around Brian. 

The man flinched and his body tightened. “Go away. Go back up to your tier.”

“I won’t!” Justin replied. “I’m NOT leaving!”

Brian shook off Justin’s touch. “I should have followed my fucking instincts way back when and taken those pills before I wrote a single word! Fuck Ron and his suggestions! It figures that both he AND you think that exposing me to the entire world is a great idea!”

“But... if you hadn’t been here, Brian, if you hadn’t taken me and protected me, then think about what would have happened to me,” Justin said, standing alone. “It would have been me, too, in the bikers’ tip. What they did to me was bad enough, but if you hadn’t been here it would have been so much worse. So even if you never speak to me again, never want to look at my face again for as long as you live – thank you, Brian. And I love you.”

Justin turned and stumbled away, his eyes blinded by his tears. He had only wanted to save Brian. To return the favor somehow. To free him. To give him that gift. And now it had all gone wrong. He had misunderstood the meaning of the manuscript. It wasn’t just a story that could be shown to anyone. It was a piece of Brian’s soul, only meant to be shared with the person closest to him. And now Justin had betrayed him. And so had Ron. And that left Brian with no one.

Justin pulled at the annex room door. It suddenly seemed too heavy. Justin stopped and leaned his head against it, weeping.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Holding him. Pulling him closer. Pressing his face against Brian’s tee shirt. 

“Don’t go,” whispered Brian. “Please.”

“I won’t,” Justin said. “I’ll never go. I promise.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconnecting.

Chapter 33

 

“Brian, I think you should lie down now,” said Justin. He could feel how shaky Brian was. How he still winced whenever someone even came close to touching the area around his healing wound.

“I guess I’m a little tired,” Brian admitted.

Justin guided him to the bed and Brian climbed onto it, gingerly.

“How did your session with the Juice Pig go?” Justin asked.

“It was hard,” said Brian, bitterly. “I hate being weak. I hate being dependent on anyone. It makes me feel like a fucking sitting duck. Like I can’t protect myself – or you.”

“You don’t need to protect me, Brian,” Justin replied. “Everything is fine right now.” He pulled himself onto the bed next to Brian and curled gently against his long body.

Brian shook his head. “No, Justin, never lull yourself into believing that you don’t need protection. Or that we both have to watch our backs every minute of the day. This place may be calm right now, but it’s still a prison. A zoo full of unstable animals. Never believe anything else, Justin. Don’t fool yourself. You can’t trust anyone.”

“Except you, Brian.”

Brian gazed at the boy and Justin shuddered. “Always put yourself first, Justin. Always. If you have the chance to save yourself, then do it. Don’t worry about me. Don't worry about anyone else. The day may come when you’ll have to leave me behind. No, not MAY – it WILL come. And it’ll come sooner than you think.”

“But Brian....”

“No, Justin,” Brian said. “You’re a short-termer. I know it seems to you that you’ve been in the Quad forever and that you’ll never get out, but that’s because you’re so young. Time always crawls too slowly when you’re young. But the day will come when you pack up your shit, shove your government issue into the trash, put on your civilian clothes, and walk out the door. When that happens, don’t look back. NEVER look back! I mean it.”

“I couldn’t,” Justin said. “I could never just... just walk out and leave you behind.”

“You can,” Brian replied. “And you will. It’s what you should do. And what you have to do.”

“I don’t think that I can,” Justin whispered. “That’s why you HAVE to get out, too! That’s why I gave Miss Carver your manuscript. It seemed the only way to let everyone know what had happened to you. To make them see that you were innocent.” Justin sniffed and wiped his nose gently. “That way we would both get out together. I didn’t want to think about... about....” Justin couldn’t continue. The picture of Brian, alone in their cell, maybe for years to come, was something that was constantly in his mind. Which was why is could NOT come true! Justin wouldn’t let it come true!

“You CAN,” Brian repeated. “That’s why it’s important to take your classes. It gets your head ready for when you leave here. The last thing I want is for you to get ‘institutionalized.’ To end up like Stormy or Lee. They’re barely older than you are, but prison is already the center of their lives. They’ve been in and out of different joints for years. Juvie, county jail, now medium security. The next step for them is maximum security. The State Pen. That’s THEIR Fate. But it isn’t yours, Justin. You can leave here and go forward with your life. You have to go forward, even if that means leaving behind people who were important to you in the joint. That’s why Ron will always be chained to the past. He can’t let go of his years in Stanton. And he can’t let go of me. If he’d really been smart, he would have packed up his wife and kids and his life and gone to another city, another state. Gotten as far away from the Quad as possible. Started a new life. But he didn’t. And that was Ron’s big mistake. Don’t let it be your mistake, Justin.”

Justin lay his head against Brian’s chest and closed his eyes. “I said that I wouldn’t leave you.”

“I know. But you have to do what you have to do. A man has to know when to let go. And when that time comes – don’t turn around. Don't have any regrets.” Brian touched Justin’s golden hair. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Justin murmured. 

But it wasn’t okay, thought Justin. How could it be okay? How could Justin walk out of the Quad, knowing that Brian would be there for another 10 years? Or maybe even longer? How could he not look back? Not think about Brian every minute of the day? He couldn’t imagine that life. A life where his body was free, but his heart was still locked in Cell E-320, Stanton Quad?

Justin rolled off the bed and dragged the wooden chair over to the door, leaning it against the knob. There was no way to lock the annex room, but the chair served to give a few seconds of warning that someone was trying to come in. But at this time of the afternoon Justin doubted that anyone would enter the room. The patients were sleeping and Dr. Gomez, who was on duty, would be doing paperwork. And Em wouldn’t come into the ward until that evening, so he wouldn’t look in on them.

Then Justin pulled off his tee shirt and dropped his workpants and shorts on the cracked linoleum floor. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a plastic container of Vaseline.

Vaseline was greasy and it had a medicinal smell and taste, but it was better than what most of the inmates used. Hair pomade. Cream rinse. Hand lotion. Some of the cooks did a brisk business trading a cup of Crisco for a pack of cigarettes. Some of the less fussy jocks even used grease from the machine shop, although that made Brian cringe. But access to the Hospital meant that Justin could get small jars of the preferred Vaseline without too much trouble. Once Emmett had obtained a tube of KY jelly from a shipment that one of the doctors had ordered to use in examinations, but Em had taken that back up to his own cell to save for a very special occasion.

“Be careful,” Brian breathed as Justin climbed on top of him. 

Justin knew from previous attempts that he had to move slowly and keep his own weight from pressing against Brian’s sore side. The hospital bed was narrow and didn’t have a lot of bounce, but they were used to the confined space of the cell bunk, so that wasn’t a problem. The main difficulty was control. 

Justin slicked up Brian’s cock with the Vaseline and then applied some to himself. He knew that Brian was in too much pain to thrust too hard or too long, so Justin jacked Brian’s dick vigorously with his greasy fingers until it was fully stiff, curving up towards his stomach. Then Justin lowered himself very slowly, while Brian held his dick in place. Brian gasped a little, both at the tightness around his cock and from the strain on his muscles, but he focused on holding himself steady while Justin moved up and down. Justin braced himself with his left hand, while his right stroked his own cock. He moved faster and harder until he could feel Brian’s hips buck upward. Brian reached up to hold Justin into place as he came inside his ass, while Justin jerked himself off until he also came. 

Justin rolled off and stretched out next to Brian. “Are you okay?”

“Equal amounts of pain and pleasure,” Brian sighed. “Just the way it should be.”

“Someday we’ll have a big double bed with satin sheets and big fur-covered pillows!” said Justin. “I know! A waterbed! It’ll be like fucking on top of the ocean.”

“I hope you don’t get seasick,” Brian said, smiling. “I think a plain old bed in a plain old room where we can just have a little privacy would be all right with me.” He closed his eyes. “Nothing fancy. Just a room that’s all ours. Without anyone looking in at you through bars. No one else deciding when you can sleep and when you can eat and when you can take a piss. And not having to fuck like you’re afraid, with a chair pushed against the door or a blanket in front of the bunk to hide what you’re doing. If there’s a place like that anywhere in the world.”

“There must be, Brian,” Justin said, holding onto him tightly. “A place where we can be free and not afraid. And we’ll find it. We’ll find it together.”

“Then close your eyes,” Brian replied. “And we’ll look for it in a dream. That’s all we can do for now.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Jennifer have a chat.

Chapter 34

 

Ron hated to be interrupted.

He had told Julie where he would be and given her the number he’d be at for emergencies only. It was risky enough to be going to Jennifer’s house in the afternoon, but taking phone calls there was really asking for trouble!

“She says it’s important,” said Jennifer, holding out the receiver.

She glanced around nervously. Craig was out of town and Molly was at school, but this was just crazy! How did she let Ron talk her into coming back here when they could have easily gone to the Liberty Motel, as usual? Jennifer was beginning to think that Ron got off on the excitement of doing something forbidden. Of almost getting caught. Yes, that’s what he enjoyed. And Jennifer was shocked to realize that she was enjoying it, too. But only up to a point.

Ron grabbed the phone out of Jen’s hand. “What? This better be good!”

“I thought you were in a meeting with a client!” Julie sniped.

“I AM!” Ron returned. Goddamn these females! Once you’d put your dick into one of them, they thought they owned it! “I’m meeting with Mrs. Taylor. Is that any of your business?”

“Then you might want to inform her of something that I just got wind of,” said Julie, coolly. “Something that concerns her – and her son.”

Ron sat up in bed. “What?” Anything that had to do with Justin also impacted Brian. 

“My source in the Pittsburgh Police Department says that word is going around that Stockwell is withdrawing from the Republican Primary for mayor,” said Julie.

“He’s withdrawing? When did you hear this?” Ron clutched the receiver tightly.

“Who? Who is withdrawing from what?” Jennifer asked anxiously.

“Shush!” Ron told her. “Is this a reliable source?”

“One of my best,” said Julie, proudly. “Apparently there’s been an internal investigation within the Pittsburgh PD about some cop who was Jim Stockwell’s partner when he was on the force about 10 years ago. This guy, Ken Rikert, and Stockwell both retired about the same time. It seems that they might have been FORCED to retire because of some abuses. The information is really buried, Ron, but my source is trying to track it down. After he left the force, Stockwell went on to law school and then directly into the prosecutor’s office, where he worked his way up to the top.” 

Ron was feeling his excitement rise. “What happened to Rikert? Where is he now?”

“Dead,” said Julie, flatly. “He shot himself about a year after his retirement. So there’s no way to question him and find out what was going on with him and Stockwell.”

“Shit,” Ron murmured. “It must have been something big if it’s enough to make Stockwell back off from his political ambitions.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Julie agreed. “But the other thing is.....” Julie paused.

“If Stockwell doesn’t have a political motive, he’s got no reason to block a deal for the kid,” said Ron, glancing at Jennifer’s worried face. Her eyes widened at his words.

“That’s what I was thinking, Ron,” said Julie. 

“See what you can get on this Rikert thing, Julie,” Ron instructed. “Anything at all. We need anything we can get on Stockwell that we can use to put the pressure on him.”

“You think that this will impact the kid?”

Ron smiled. “I think this may well be his ticket out of the Quad.” Ron turned and looked at Jennifer. She gripped his arm tightly.

“All we need from Stockwell is for him NOT to block a new hearing for the kid. If we can get him in front of a sympathetic judge, preferably female, and lay out what’s happened to him in Stanton....” Ron stopped. He had to be careful. Jennifer still didn’t know that her son had been raped practically his first day there. The kid hadn’t told her and the family, as usual, hadn’t been informed. Rape was considered an ‘internal matter.’ A hazard of being in prison. It wasn’t something that you ‘snitched’ to outsiders about. “All we have to do is present a clean, smart, white, upper-middle class kid who has no priors and who is a model inmate and I think we’re home free!”

“I’ll start working on it immediately,” said Julie. “I thought you’d want to know about this, Ron. I didn’t mean to ruin your – um – lunch hour recreation!”

“It’s not a problem, Julie,” said Ron, smoothing her ruffled feathers. He’d take her to dinner and then back to her small apartment for a good fuck in a couple of days. Then she’d be a happy camper. Luckily, Julie wasn’t the jealous type. Not as long as she got her share.

And once the kid was out of the Quad, Ron could focus his attention on Brian. He’d press for the Conjugal Visit and, with Justin out of the way, Brian wasn’t likely to balk at seeing Ron. He’d actually welcome the attention. Brian got into these moods from time to time. He got lonely and needed attention, just like Julie. Just like Ron’s other women. Then a little TLC – a little “tender loving care” – would be exactly what Brian needed.

Ron made a mental note to write to Warden Horvath as soon as he got back to the office. He also needed to call that literary agent in New York. The man seemed to think that Brian’s manuscript could bring a large piece of change, especially if the publishing houses got into a bidding war over it after the excerpts appeared in ‘The New Yorker.’ But that was in the near future. Ron would have plenty of time to get Brian into a receptive mood before that.

And then... who knew? Brian might really get a new trial, especially if the book was a success. He could actually get out of the Quad – in a year or two. And Ron would be waiting. With open arms.

Ron grinned.

“Does this mean that Justin is going to be free?” asked Jennifer, almost afraid to hope. “Do you think it’s possible?”

The smile left Ron’s face. “It’s possible, my dear. Which is why you must begin planning what you are going to do if that happens. What WE are going to do. It might be a good idea for you and your son and daughter to leave Pittsburgh after your divorce is final.”

“Leave? But why?” Jennifer was confused.

“So that you both can begin new lives,” said Ron. “You wouldn’t want your son to face the stigma of going back to his old neighborhood as an ex-convict, would you? Think of how hard it would be for him, especially when he has his whole young life ahead of him. In a new place he wouldn’t have to deal with everyone knowing that he had been in prison.”

“That’s true,” Jennifer admitted. “A fresh start in a new city. I have a sister in Chicago. And some other relatives out in Seattle.” Then she frowned. “But what about us, Ron? How will we be together if we aren’t in the same city?”

“Don’t fret, Jen. I’ll take care of everything,” said Ron, stroking Jennifer – and also himself. “Don’t you worry, I’ll figure it out – all in good time. You’ll see, my dear. You’ll see.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Finale of "Medium Security" III --
> 
> A return to the third tier.

Chapter 35

July 1978

 

Em was planning her wardrobe for the Fourth of July Picnic.

She wanted something festive, but also summery. She had a pair of old workpants that she’d cut off and turned into Daisy Dukes, but they looked a little trashy. She knew that Barbie would be wearing a pair of capri-pants that she’d made with some material that her sister had sent her, but Barbie was a whiz with a needle and thread. Em, on the other hand, was more of a stylist. She wasn’t too good at sewing, but she was a genius at putting an outfit together.

Of course, in the Quad getting your hands on the right fabric, not to mention the correct accessories, was a pain in the ass. Michelle was lucky because her mom lived nearby and could bring her anything she wanted. Debbie often got things for Emmy, too, but Em hated to be a pest about it. Her own poor family down in Mississippi couldn’t very well send her the kinds of things she needed to make her wardrobe a true fashion statement, so Em had to scramble and barter and give out what she could in trade for the things she needed.

“Are you going to sign up for any of the games?” asked Michelle, looking over the schedule of events for the picnic.

“And mess up my clothes? No thank you!” snorted Em.

“The Powder Puff Softball Game might be fun,” said Michelle. “And they’re giving out prizes for things like the Sack Race and the Egg Toss – all the ‘Queens Only’ events. They’re giving out gift certificates for the canteen to the winners and runners-up get bags of candy.”

“What are the guys getting for their events?” asked Em.

“Let’s see.” Michelle read down the list. “For the weight-lifting events the winners get cans of protein formula! Ben would like that! He’s sure to win something in one of those!”

“Yeah, Ben really needs more protein in his body!” Em laughed. “What about the track events?” 

“More gift certificates for the canteen. And a pair of running shoes, too, for the winner of the Mile! That’s what Brian won last year,” said Michelle, sadly. “This year he’s in no shape to win anything.”

“Honey, that boy is lucky he’s even walking, so I’m sure he doesn’t mind that he isn’t running this year!” 

Michelle shook her head. “Justin says he’s really depressed. Ben says so, too. He’s pretty frustrated that he can’t get his strength back.”

“Oh, pooh!” said Em. “Dr. Caputo told me that Brian is doing just fine! It’s mainly because he’s bored out of his mind down in the ward. But it could be a lot worse. If Justin wasn’t around to keep him occupied for most of the day, he’d drive me and all the other orderlies crazy!”

“It’s bad enough being locked up in the Quad, but being stuck in the Hospital Wing must be murder!” Michelle added. “And Brian is so restless all the time, I can’t imagine what he must be feeling.”

“Well, Little Miss Sunshine has her hands full with Bri-Baby, let me tell you!” Em stated. “Sometimes he yells at Justin and the boy walks out into the hallway and stands there for about 15 minutes, just getting his shit together. But he always comes right back in and faces Bad Bri down again. He’s got a lot of patience, that kid!”

“Do you think Brian will come to the Fourth of July Picnic?” asked Michelle. “He HAS to! He can’t miss the party!”

Emmy shrugged. “Bri told me that he wasn’t going unless he could get out there himself, walk around the Yard, and then get back – all under his own power. He refuses to use the wheelchair and he won’t lean on either me or Justin to get around anymore.”

“Is Brian really strong enough to do that?” Michelle asked.

“It depends,” Em admitted. “He knocks into things a lot. And he falls down, too, but Justin and I pretend not to notice – unless he can’t get up again. But he gets mad if you try to help him.”

“Jesus,” said Michelle. “That’s rough.” 

“Men!” replied Em. “Can’t live with them – and don’t want to live without them!”

“Amen!” Michelle laughed.

There was a knock on the cell. Em and Michelle looked up to see Wesley. 

“Hiya, honey, what’s cooking?” asked Em.

“Ben sent me up here to see if you guys were busy,” the boy answered.

“Just primping for the Fourth, darling!” said Em.

“Where’s Ben? I thought he was over in the Hospital Wing, working with Brian,” said Michelle.

“He is,” said Wes. “I mean – he was. Anyway, he says to be ready!”

Michelle frowned. “Ready for what?” he called after Wesley, but he was already gone. “What was THAT all about?”

“You know your man better than I do, honey – so you tell me!” countered Em.

Emmy and Michelle continued to go through their clothes for the Fourth of July Picnic, finally deciding that a red, white, and blue theme would definitely be the way to go. 

“Hey, ladies!” said Barbie, sticking her head into the cell. “Come out! Something’s up!”

“Now what?” sighed Em. “This place is like Grand Central Station!” 

Em stood up and stretched, while Michelle went to the door and peered out. Em came and looked out over her shoulder, while Barbie leaned against the outside of the bars.

Most of the guys were gathered outside their cells or in front of the Rec Room. And three of the C.O.’s were standing by the freight elevator next to the stairwell. The elevators were used only by the guards or for transporting goods up and down the tiers, and inmates were forbidden to set foot in them.

But the door of the elevator opened and Em, Michelle, and Barbie were surprised to see Ben get out. Wesley was waiting by the stairwell, leaning against the railings. He stepped forward and took a bundle from Ben’s hands.

And then Justin came out of the elevator, with Brian right behind him. Brian moving very slowly. Brian looking very thin and very pale. But Brian Kinney – back on the third tier of the East Wing.

“Oh my God!” cried Michelle. “Brian!” 

Michelle started to move towards him, but Em grabbed Michelle’s shirt and held her back. “Don’t crowd the man, darling. Give him a little time to do it his own way.”

Em knew the effort it took for Brian to do this because she’d watched his slow progress during his weeks in the Hospital Wing. The guards allowing Brian to use the elevator made it possible for him to get up to his tier. Ben’s physical therapy helped Brian to build up his strength. Dr. Caputo’s casual attitude toward the rules permitted Justin to be with Brian as much as he was able. And Justin’s constant presence – coaxing, nurturing, badgering, comforting, and loving - gave Brian the courage to continue, even when he thought it was hopeless.

Justin pulled Brian out of the elevator and onto the tier. “I drew a new picture for the room,” said Justin. “With the pastels that my mom sent me. I put it up on the wall right next to the bunk.”

“I hope it isn’t a picture of my cock,” Brian whispered. “The C.O.’s will write us up for sure if they saw one of THOSE drawings!”

Justin gave him a little push. “No, Brian! It’s a picture of our horse! I used gold and bronze for the body and silver for the mane and tail. And I made the valley green with blue shadows. And the sky blue and grey and white.”

Ben stood on Brian’s other side, not touching him, but letting Brian know that he was there in case he felt himself getting shaky. And Wes walked right behind them, carrying Brian’s small bundle of clothes and personal items. 

All the guys were waiting and watching to see what would happen, both inmates and C.O.’s. Michelle and Barbie were waving from in front of their cell and Emmy was grinning proudly.

Brian paused as a cramp in his side shot through him. This was the farthest he’d walked by himself so far, and he still needed to get all the way down the tier to his and Justin’s cell, E-320. “I think I’m going to need that damn golden horse to carry me the rest of the way, Justin,” Brian breathed.

Justin linked his arm through Brian’s and moved him forward slowly. “Don’t worry, Brian. We don’t need a horse, ” he replied. “We’ll carry each other.”

 

*FIN*


End file.
